The Stray
by Wynja
Summary: Someone needs an owner and someone else is willing to take on the responsibility… if you can really train strays, that is. Sladin.
1. Chapter 1: Lucky Dog

A/N: Welcome to a new chaptered story. It is just a drabble that got too long, so it's divided into 6 chapters, to be posted every Friday (remind me!). Thank you to Aikino for being beta and sounding board! J

 **The Stray**

 **Chapter 1: Lucky Dog**

It was always the same thing with strays, Slade thought. They showed up, scrawny, scruffy, hungry looking, and then they either disappeared again or stayed. His had stayed. Black hairs here and there were often the only proof of existence, though. It kept to itself.

It had sat outside one day. Slade had brought fast food home. Hamburgers. He had gotten the super size meal at the local chain: two double cheeseburgers, fries and soda. His metabolism demanded the calories and would burn them much too quickly.

It had looked so pitiful. Hungry. He wasn't in the business of charity, but had nevertheless stuck his hand into the bag and pulled out one of the burgers, tossing it at the stray. It had pulled back, looking bewildered and suspicious for a moment but then tucked in.

It was back again the next day. Somehow he left the door open and the next thing he knew the stray was sleeping on his sofa. It came and went for a while, keeping odd hours, but then again so did Slade.

He was watching the stray sleeping now. Slade had asked for a name and his age and reluctantly gotten the answers "Dick" and "seventeen". The boy looked younger than seventeen, but Slade had accepted it. He was on the short side, and though not exactly scrawny he was lean. A build that, with the right amount of protein and training, would fill out very nicely. Despite his youth, sometimes, when he looked at the man with those big, blue eyes, there was something in them… something that made the boy seem far older than his years. He had clearly experienced things a teenager wasn't supposed to. And still… the stray acted strange. Strange as in the way he behaved, namely perfectly. The man had been sure the kid would try to rob him, but so far he hadn't as much as touched a piece of bread without permission. He even cleaned up after himself, and more than that; Slade had returned sometimes to find the apartment clean and laundry done. He assumed the boy did it to 'pay rent' and he didn't mind. Dick _did_ owe him, after all.

Slade mainly thought of the boy as "the stray". The kid didn't seem very at ease with the name he had introduced himself as, sometimes taking suspiciously long to react to it and then appearing almost offended at Slade using it. The mercenary understood the need to anonymity better than most, however, and had left it alone.

He noticed, by the changed breathing pattern, that the boy had woken up, so he moved away. He hadn't meant to stand there and watch him; he had just been on the way to the sink through the open plan kitchen/living room to get himself some water. The boy had good instincts though, trying to hide the fact that he was awake. The way the stray moved and acted also told Slade that there was potential there, maybe something to work with. But first he had to find out a little bit more about him…

* * *

Robin, because he had chosen to only think of himself as Robin since he had been on his own, tensed. The man was watching him. Would he attack? A moment later the guy, Slade Wilson, moved away towards the kitchen and the teen relaxed slightly. He had found out the name by snooping around a bit. Carefully. Very, very carefully. Being in this house at all was probably suicide, but so far the man had treated him better than most he had met the last couple of years. He had seen the signs outside; homeless people and street gangs all had their own way of marking properties and territories, a tag here, a small scratched symbol close to the door… they had all said the same thing: "keep away!", "danger!", "don't break in!", "protected!". The building itself was a small three storey house in red brick. It was old, originally a stately home of some rich family back when Gotham was founded Robin thought, and it was squeezed in between much bigger buildings. The reason it hadn't been torn down to make room for something more modern was probably because the plot itself was so small. Not much you could build there. The house had since then been remodeled into apartments but Slade obviously owned the whole place with no one else living there.

Robin had taken to rest outside the door simply because he was left alone there, and then the owner had given him food. It had been a rather amazing experience, close to hypnotizing, and he had been drawn in by it. Still, it was stupid, staying here. He had no idea who the man was apart from dangerous. Clearly dangerous. The way he moved, acted… yeah, this wasn't a guy who worked in an office and considered poker night with his friends exciting. But still, so far so good. He was only allowed on the bottom floor of the apartment building; the rest was off limits and had electronic locks. Even the windows were blocked and the one way in through the roof was also locked and hooked up to the kind of alarm Robin didn't want to mess with without the proper tools. He had checked it all out, though, out of curiosity.

He didn't know what the man kept or did up there, he could disappear for hours at a time, but it didn't matter much. If this place was safe, then why leave it? The other places sure as hell weren't safe. The shelters sometimes called the authorities when they suspected that he was underage and he had fought off people to save both his meager amount of cash and his body several times. Speaking about cash, he was running out. It was time to start charging again. Robin sighed and moved into a more comfortable position. Tomorrow night. He'll do it tomorrow night.

* * *

When Dick left the next night he was being trailed. The young man had no idea, however, as Slade was an expert. The man watched from a distance as the stray took to the roofs like he was born up there, and then moved through the city seemingly without any specific target. First he had stopped and changed, though, which was more than a little odd. Slade was too far away to see what the kid had changed into and the dark muted any colors. Maybe he had just put on something for warmth. His silhouette didn't seem much different.

A cry for help had both of them turning their head, but as Slade was going to shrug and continue following the boy said boy turned and hurried towards the sound.

What was this? Slade frowned behind his mask. He had his uniform on which would deter all but the most stupid of threats, and he liked having all his weapons on hand. He might have to use them too, because the boy was obviously suicidal. For the next fifteen minutes Slade watched from the shadows and his expression changed from an annoyed scowl, to surprised, to finally settle into a pleased smirk.

The scream had come from a middle aged woman held up at knife point. The woman was, hands shaking badly, about to remove her watch and bracelets when the boy landed behind the robber. The man turned around and, with quite good reflexes, slashed out with the knife. The kid was faster, though, and the knife was deflected by one of two short wooden weapons, sawed off baseball bats Slade guessed, that the teen had been carrying stuffed into the back of his belt.

The fight was impressively short. The woman then thanked the kid as he returned all her stuff but was then taken aback when the boy went through the robber's belongings and took the cash the man was carrying, stuffing it in his own -Slade's eye narrowed- belt? Belt pocket? Hmmm…

"You're stealing from him? I thought you were a hero!" the woman gasped.

"I'm as much of a hero as I can afford to be," the teen replied wearily. "See it as a tip you don't have to pay. Do you need an escort out of here?"

The woman declined and the boy temporarily stepped out into the street light to be able to reach a ledge on the next building from where he could swing himself over to a fire escape. That's when Slade started to grin.

As the night went on he edged closer, took in the details, and yes: a dark red t-shirt over some kind of padding, maybe a light bullet proof vest. The jeans were the same the kid had worn when he left the house, but the belt and the mask were new. The belt looked homemade and had pockets all around it and the mask… it was barely more than a cheap black Halloween mask. He had entertained the thought of this being a wannabe, but no. The kid knew how to fight and Slade recognized some of the Bat in him, but he had a style of his own, clearly developed and close to perfected over the years. He was the real thing. The real Boy Wonder.

Richard Grayson, former ward of Bruce Wayne, who had been killed in the bombing of Wayne Manor almost four years ago. That would actually make him seventeen, despite looking younger. The kid had been at a friend's house according to the media. Slade quickly went through the old news on his phone to update himself. As the billionaire hadn't formally adopted him and the slow moving system meant that there weren't even any signed papers about guardianship, the thirteen year old had been thrown into the foster care system with nothing of the Wayne fortune to his name. It had not gone well. The kid even had a few strikes with the police. In the end he had simply run away, and as far as Slade and the internet knew he had been living on the streets for almost three years now. He had dropped under the media's radar a long time ago, though.

People had barely wondered what happened to him after the Wayne disaster. There had been a gala there that night, the crème de la crème of Gotham had been there, to see, be seen and die. Batman was never seen after that and most people came to the conclusion that he had been among the ones killed, though who was never settled. Some had speculated that he had been Bruce Wayne himself, but the billionaire and the Bat had been seen at the same time in different locations several times. Slade knew better, though. The sightings had been staged when people had gotten a little bit too close to the truth. In the end someone had made up their mind and targeted the man anyway. Or the missiles had been set off by someone who just didn't like rich people; there were never any real answers, no culprit found, no one had taken the credit. Slade himself hadn't been involved, he had been on the other side of the world and had not, until now, even thought about the possibility that the boy wonder might still be out there. If he had then maybe he would have taken advantage of the situation sooner.

He had met the Bat and his sidekick only once. He had politely asked the man to look the other way and let him do his job, which on this occasion was delivering a bullet into the head of a high ranking drug dealer who wouldn't keep in line with the rest of the syndicate, but no. The man's protective instincts apparently included scum, so they had fought. Brutally. The boy had tried to join in too, but Slade had quickly put him out of commission by hitting nerve clusters, leaving him lying helpless on the roof only able to watch as the mercenary took out his mentor. Not that it had been easy; the bat was a very good opponent, but not, of course, good enough. Slade had only taken him down hard enough to be able to finish his job. He had had no interest in killing the man after all; he had been an ally in the past and might have been one in the future too. The good thing about Batman had been that he had understood when things were 'just business' and not personal.

Slade watched for a little longer but then returned home. The kid seemed fine and he didn't want to be spotted, not yet at any rate. He had some other business to attend to first, but now he at least knew that the stray really didn't have an owner, and that, in Slade's mind, meant that he probably needed a new one.

* * *

Robin returned to the apartment in a bad mood, guilt gnawing at his guts. He hated stealing, even from criminals, but he needed the money not only to live but he was saving up for a new life. He had found someone to forge papers for him, everything from a birth certificate to passport, but it was expensive, Very, very expensive, but the man was the best there was, so Robin figured it would be worth it. With a new identity, putting him at 18 with decent school records, he could apply for university somewhere, move away, start over and finally have a chance at a real life, a clean slate. But he _did_ need money. Lots of it. He had gotten the idea when someone he saved insisted on paying him. It hadn't felt quite right, but he had been very hungry that night. In the end he refused to charge, though, and had decided that whatever the thugs might be carrying would be his. Luckily they still used a lot of cash. Cards and phone transactions could be traced and probably not the best thing to buy drugs with anyway, meaning that Robin usually got paid and sometimes very well. Now he was saving money on housing too, at least Wilson hadn't said anything about rent yet, though he wasn't keen on the way the man looked at him sometimes… well, if the guy wanted some other kind of rent the teen was possibly up for it. He had never done anything like that before, things had never gotten that desperate, but the man was attractive and hygienic at least. Then again he might be looking at him because he planned on killing and skinning him…

* * *

Slade frowned a little irritably at his own reflection and then added another eye drop. He was wearing his prosthetic eye just as he always were when he used this house. It drew less attention to him and this place was about lying low. However, the thing chafed. He hated to admit that it annoyed him, as it was such a silly little thing, but he would be glad when this job was over and he could move on. As it was, with the stray in the house he couldn't take the thing out at all. It was unlikely that the boy would make any connections between him and Deathstroke, but Slade preferred to not give him the chance or he might have to put the stray down, rather than risking his safe house and business.

His work here was almost done. It was a complicated target, a board member of Wayne enterprises which had been taken over completely by the board after its owner died. The man was a recluse, however, and/or paranoid and lived in the heavily protected Wayne building. Working and living in the same building and apparently having no need for a social life meant that this man was seldom out an about and after weeks of observation Slade had given up on a pattern that made the man leave the building. Whenever he did it was random and he didn't seem to even have a favorite restaurant. That meant breaking and entering, much more risky than taking the shot from a distance. The windows to the building were bulletproof and wouldn't let you see inside though, so he had to get in. He had decided to go in through the roof and had worked to take over the security cameras with a push of a button. He had also done research on the electronic lock and was sure he could get around it, but once in there he was pretty much flying blind. He had studied the blueprints but knew not to trust them. He had gotten a member of the guard team drunk one night and milked him for details before slipping a little pill in the man's last beer which would make sure the guy wouldn't remember anything, but what he had been told could have changed. Slade didn't like it. He was tense. He wasn't worried about his own safety, but he did want to do a clean, silent and effective job. No blood bath, no alarms, no police chase. Get it done and move on.

* * *

A few days later Robin was out on patrol when he spotted a shadow moving over the roofs a few buildings away. He knew the roofs didn't belong to him, there were others around, vigilantes, heroes and criminals, but he always checked them out when he spotted someone. He was careful when he did, not wanting to be spotted unless he had to stop a crime. He didn't want anything to do with the hero community who had turned their back on him when Bruce died. The league had been against Batman training him in the first place and Superman himself had comforted Robin, telling him that this was a chance for him to start over as a normal kid in a normal family. His first foster family had probably been just that, a nice, normal family, but Robin at thirteen, and unable to talk to any outsiders about his true former life and the losses he had gone through, had not been an easy person to deal with, he admitted that to himself. He needed to be out there, experiencing the world, fighting, doing things, not sitting around a dinner table answering questions about his day at school. By the time the foster family had more or less given up Robin had left, been caught and placed at a new home and in the meanwhile the league had stopped checking up on him. Robin had no way of contacting them either and by that point he was too angry to ask for help there.

He shadowed the person, a man he could see now, and froze as he realized he was heading for a very specific building. Robin hurried. He knew how to get up on that roof although it was a jump he wasn't usually willing to risk. He had lost all his gear all those years ago and to build a jump cord from scratch without the proper tools was impossible. However he had hooked up zip lines here and there, which helped a lot. This just took a long jump, though, and Robin let himself fly. He landed softly on the roof but not softly enough. The man whipped around. Robin's heart nearly stopped.

"Deathstroke." No, no, no, he could deal with a simple thief well enough, but a fully equipped killer like this man? He wouldn't stand a chance. But being a hero wasn't about fighting fights you knew you would win, it was about doing the _right_ thing, not the _easy_ one.

The man straightened up and his head tilted a bit to the side as he apparently assessed the threat.

"Well, well, well… if it isn't the Boy Wonder…?" he said. The man's voice was flat, but there was a hint of something else… amusement? He didn't seem to think Robin was any real threat and the boy silently agreed.

Honestly Robin was a bit flattered that the man remembered him and even more so recognized him in his home made suit. The red t-shirt was getting much too tight on him by now, especially with the paintball chest protector he had on under it, and he was somewhat embarrassed about the black "R" over his heart, drawn on with a permanent marker. It didn't look quite right, but it hadn't felt proper without it.

"You're busted, Deathstroke, you'd better leave," Robin tried very hard to keep his voice as level as the man's as he pulled out his wooden weapons from the back of his belt.

* * *

Slade almost snorted at the 'threat'. It was brave. Stupid, but brave. Maybe mostly stupid. He knew his mask would change his voice, but he made it a bit harsher still when he spoke, just in case.

"I have business here, little hero. Go play somewhere else." Oh, the boy didn't like that at _all_ , judging by his snarl. Clearly had a temper. Someone should teach him to keep it to himself.

"This is my city, you have no 'business' here!" the teen growled. Slade could practically see the feathers ruffle and stand on end.

"Very well, I see we need to discuss things. Briefly," Slade nodded. He had a time frame to keep to, after all. He took a step towards the boy who predictably lounged at him.

Slade barely focused on the fight, busy thinking over options. He could simply kill the boy, but something inside him didn't particularly like the idea, unless it was necessary. Still, to take him out and then drop him over a side of a building once the job here was done was quick and easy. A boy dressed up as a hero falling from a roof? No one would even bat an eye.

"Uf!" Some of the air in Slade's lungs were pushed out as one of the wooden weapons the teen wielded had hit him rather hard in the stomach. It seemed that the stray had some rather good moves. He should pay attention, then, and finish this.

The boy fought well but was too open, relying on his speed and agility too much to get away. He had clearly not fought anyone good for a long time. Slade took advantage of this and soon slammed his fist into the side of the boy's head, just hard enough to knock him out. Still undecided he then removed a pair of handcuffs from his belt and locked the boy to a pipe. He'd decide later.

* * *

Robin had seen the punch coming but hadn't had time to get out of the way. He was able to move just enough to deflect some of the power, but his world still turned black for an instant. He came to a moment later to feel cold steel snap around his wrist but then the pain from the blow registered and he was out again.

He grunted as he woke up. He could practically see the cartoon bells and birds swirling around his head, and everything hurt. Everything. Even his hair. He tried to sit up but his arm was suddenly caught on something. It took him a moment to realize that he was chained up. He carefully shook his head, trying to clear it. He needed to get away. He fished out some simple, homemade lock picks from his belt and got to work. The lock was complicated, more so than simple police cuffs, but still not much of a challenge. He decided to keep the cuffs, even with the extra time it took to get the other end off the pipe, but then he had a decision to make. Wait for the man to come back and fight again? Go in after him? Robin chuckled at himself. He wasn't suicidal. Deathstroke might come back for him and that wouldn't be pretty. He decided to leave. 'Flee' might be a better description, but also more hurtful to his pride.

* * *

Slade came back to the roof after a successful mission to see that his decision was made for him. He returned home, came in through the roof as usual, changed and walked downstairs to find the stray there, grimacing while trying to clean a wound on his back. The boy was only wearing jeans, hair still damp from a shower, and bruises had started to form all over his body. Slade stopped and feigned surprise.

"What happened to you?"

"Got jumped," the boy claimed.

"Big gang, it seems like," the man answered and almost grinned as the boy grunted something under his breath. "Here, let me help you. I can't have you bleed on my furniture," he added as the teen seemed reluctant. Dick then nodded. The wound was rather low on the teen's back so Slade sat down on the couch and guided the boy to stand between his knees as he helped clean and bandage the injury, which wasn't worse than a shallow scrape.

"You barely have any medical supplies," the boy let him know in the middle of it all.

"No? Well, I'll make sure to rectify that if you intend to let this continue," Slade told him with a chuckle. This was bordering on the most they had ever spoken with each other at once.

"I'll try not to make it into a habit," the teen snorted. "Ow! That hurt!"

"Just checking these bruises. Are you sure your ribs are okay?" Slade asked, pretending to be worried. The truth was that he rather liked sliding his fingers across the teen's pale, marked skin. He had immediately registered the young man as attractive, but like this, half naked, wet hair, body strumming with adrenaline and testosterone, pupils still wide from excitement… like this he was rather hard to resist.

"I'm fine," the teen told him and pulled away. The man had to restrain himself from catching him.

"Very well. So what exactly happened?" he asked once more.

"Don't really wanna talk about it."

"Well, I might need to know. Is it going to bring any trouble to my door? Will people be looking for you?"

"No, it was just a one-time thing."

"Alright then. And who won?"

"He- they did."

"I see." Slade put the meager medical supplies back in the small bag Dick had found in the main bathroom and stood up. On the way to the bathroom he, as an afterthought, turned around towards the boy. "If you'd like I could help you train to fight. Make sure this doesn't happen again."

Slade watched the teen's expression carefully as he gave him his offer and the first flicker of emotion was one of almost contempt, like 'and what do you think you can teach me?' but then the teen's eyes ran up and down the man's body and the expression changed to a more thoughtful one.

"Well… yeah, we could… try? Thanks…" Dick answered.

"If nothing else sparring is good exercise. Once you've healed, of course," the man nodded, inwardly grinning in triumph. "Just let me know."

"I will. Thanks again," The young hero nodded.

* * *

Robin went to bed later that night, early morning actually, wondering if he should take the man up on his offer. He did need to train, desperately, but did Wilson really have anything to offer him? The man was built, yes, and dangerous, yes, but that didn't mean he knew shit about hand-to-hand combat. And did Robin really want to show off his own skills? What if the man got suspicious of them and… well… and what? Batman and Robin were long gone, why would anyone make a connection between him and a thirteen year old side kick? And Wilson wasn't even a Gotham resident; at least he had told him that he was just here temporarily.

The next morning Robin was swearing over the news on the TV.

"Woke up on the wrong side?" the man asked him as he came into the sitting room.

"I- no, no it's just… some guy was killed."

"Did you know him?" Wilson asked and glanced at the TV where a picture of his latest victim was displayed. It was a 'before' picture. An image of someone with their head blown off wasn't pretty.

"What? No, no, I mean… not directly. Just… You know… bad news."

"People get killed in Gotham every day," the man shrugged but then frowned. "Last night…? You didn't have anything to do with this, did you?"

"No!"

"To be clear, I don't care, but I _do_ care if the cops show up here, understood?"

"Trust me, they won't. I had nothing to do with it! It was an assassination inside the Wayne building, how the hell would I be able to pull that off, even if I had wanted to?"

The man had looked amused but nodded and went over to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. He made some for Robin too, and the teen gladly ate it.

It seemed last night had brought them closer somehow, and they talked much more in the weeks to come. Robin didn't let any of his secrets slip, of course, and he could tell that Wilson, or Slade as he apparently preferred to be called, was guarded as well, but he didn't mind. He frankly didn't want to know how much trouble the man was, he was just grateful for the room and board… and the company. It was nice to talk to someone again. Slade lent him books which they discussed once Robin had read through them and they even caught some movies on TV now and then. The man was home more now and so was Robin, partly to heal up properly, partly because it was more difficult for him to come and go as he pleased when the man was there but most importantly… he kinda liked the company and the feeling of having a place to be. It had been a very long time since he last had that.

"Soo… about that offer to train…?" Robin said one morning after discovering that his wound was now fully healed. It hadn't been serious, but it had started bleeding a few times as it was stretched whenever he moved, so it had taken a while. The teen had still gone running and worked out in general, of course, but he was getting itchy.

* * *

Slade smiled to himself when he heard the question. He had stayed put after the job instead of leaving as he had planned to do, and this was the reason. He had gotten word out that his services were available in Gotham for a while longer just to see where this might lead. He didn't have a clear plan or purpose with the boy, only a curiosity and the sense of potential.

"Of course, let's get changed and start. Meet me out back in five."

The house had a small enclosed back yard which gave them some room to move. Both arrived there in barely two minutes and exchanged grins.

"So, what is your background? What do you know?" Slade asked.

"Um… quite a bit… Aikido, Karate, Judo…"

Slade knew that was just a small part of the styles the young man had been trained in, but the boy was clever and only mentioned things that were more probable for someone like him to know. The man pretended to be impressed.

"My, my, that is very good. How come?"

"I… um… had a trainer in like a youth project… you know, a keep kids off the street thing…?" Dick lied.

"And you trained with him for how long?"

"A few years. How about you, what do you know?" the boy dared ask.

Slade smirked.

"Quite a bit too. Special training. Are you afraid I won't be able to teach you anything?"

"I don't mean to be rude or anything…" the boy said, looking so embarrassed that the man forgave him.

"How about this… we spar, and if you think I know anything you'd like to learn afterwards we'll take it from there? And maybe you can teach me some things too."

Dick nodded curtly. "Um… do you know any of the disciplines, or should we free style fight?"

"Let's start with karate," Slade decided. "Ready?"

Slade held back rigorously. He didn't want the hero to see any unnatural speed or strength and he also made sure that his fighting style was as different as he could make it, keeping very carefully to the movements of each discipline they tried. He actually didn't know as many as the boy did, because why waste time learning such details when he already knew how to fight and had the abilities he had? He didn't care for fancy kicks or flowing movements, he took his enemies down with brute force and speed. The styles worked very well for the boy, though, he had to admit.

He very much enjoyed the self assured look on the boy's face when they began and how that expression slowly slid off to be replaced with surprise and then almost frustration.

* * *

Robin took it slow at first. He didn't want to hurt the older man, after all. How old Slade was, was something of a conundrum: He could really be anything from late thirties to sixties, but he moved like a young man. He sometimes spoke like an older person, though, just some words or phrases here and there… it didn't quite all add up. And now they were fighting and Robin had trouble keeping up. He actually had a feeling the man was holding back…

They started freestyle fighting and Robin found himself holding back less and less until he was going almost full out. His t-shirt was soaked in sweat whereas the man barely seemed bothered.

"You're starting to get sloppy," the man told him after a while. "Let's stop."

Robin just nodded and had to lean against the wall for a moment, catching his breath after a frantic series of attacks that hadn't even touched the man.

"How the hell are you so good?" he panted.

"Experience and training," Slade told him as a matter-of-fact, without a smidge of smugness in his voice.

"I thought I was good. Apparently I was wrong," Robin growled.

"You _are_ good. Very good, in fact, but you haven't had a teacher in a while, have you?"

Robin shook his head. He hadn't trained with anyone since Bruce died. He thought he had kept his skills up, but now he wasn't that sure anymore.

"Well," Slade continued. "I'd be willing to be your teacher if you're interested… but I have a few conditions."

"Such as…?" Robin didn't want to be rude, but he knew nearly nothing about this man after all.

"Firstly I will teach you to _fight_ , not a specific discipline. We'll practice hand to hand as well as with weapons. I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself, but also how to attack. Some of the solutions I teach are permanent, but it's of course up to you if you want to use them."

"I'm not interested in hurting people," the teen said, "unless I am helping someone else."

"A bit of a hero-complex there," the man smirked, "fine, but like I said; use what you want. I have a military background, though, you should be aware."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well… as long as it's just practice, I'll agree."

"We're not done with conditions yet. I expect you to obey me, and as my work demands that I travel you will either come with me or stay here, depending on the situation. You don't mind travelling, do you?"

"No, but… ummm… if you mean abroad, then I don't have a passport and-"

"I doubt you have _any_ papers we can use. I'll take care of that."

"Really? Thanks, but… well, I'm working too… kinda… I'm saving up, and-"

"Training won't occupy all your time, and I'll let you know if I can use you. If I can, you'll get a small share, say… ten to twenty five percent depending on the job."

"As long as it doesn't involve hurting people," Robin shrugged. "How much would that be, roughly?"

"Ten percent of my last job would be two thousand five hundred dollars."

Robin's eyes widened.

"Wow." Then reality clicked in and warning bells rung. "What… what kind of job do you do? It has to be something illegal, right?"

"What kind of job do you do yourself? What would happen if I looked up who you really are?" the man asked smoothly and then smirked. "I'm in… protection. Personal protection and the protection of assets and interests. It's not all above board but I get some government jobs as well… not that they are any more morally defendable. I won't get you involved in anything too bad."

"And… and if I agree, what will it…. I mean… what do you want in return?"

"Simple," the man smiled coldly. "A hard working, obedient apprentice."

 _To be continued…_

A/N: sooo… what do you think of the set-up? Let me know, reviews feed my soul… ;)


	2. Chapter 2: Why Keep a Dog and Bark

A/N: thank you so much for your support so far, I hope you will enjoy this chapter too J

 **Chapter 2: Why Keep a Dog and Bark Yourself?**

Robin was torn. He enjoyed his freedom in a way, but this man had just proven to him that he needed to improve, and that was hard to do alone. Slade also offered him a home of sorts and possibly a quicker way to reach his goals.

"I'm… interested… but maybe just for a while… I'm planning to go to college, and-"

Slade raised a hand, stopping him. "This isn't a deal for life, but I can't have you quitting all of a sudden because things get tough. This is business, after all. How about a trial period of one month and then we can discuss a one year contract. Do you think you can handle a month?"

"Pft! Of course I can!" Robin found himself saying before he had even thought about it, and all of a sudden he was shaking the man's big, warm, callused hand.

"Welcome onboard, Dick," the man told him, seemingly pleased. "If Dick is still what you want to be called?"

The teen blushed a little. It was his real name, but not one he really cherished nowadays.

"Um… maybe… I mean… I… I prefer 'Robin'."

"Robin, huh? Well, I'll try to remember that. Now, let's see what you can do with feet only. Hands on your back."

"What? We're continuing now? But I'm beat!"

"I hope that wasn't the sound of an apprentice objecting to his master's orders?"

Robin just gaped for a moment and then straightened up, crossing his wrists behind his back. "No, sir."

"Good. Let's hope I don't mishear anything again, shall we?"

Robin nodded and then threw himself to the side as the man's foot almost managed to take his head off. Then he found his footing again and leaped into another hour of training.

"That's enough for now, go stretch," Slade told him.

Robin couldn't find the energy to talk so he merely grunted and slumped onto the ground.

"I told you to stretch."

"I am," the teen groaned and then straightened one of his legs out in a poor excuse for a stretching exercise.

"Nope." Slade reached down and grabbed Robin's ankle and before the teen knew it he was hanging upside down, being carried into the house. He was too surprised and dizzy to even struggle, which was probably a good thing. A moment later the man put him down on the floor in front of the couch, sat down himself and then Robin felt the burn of stretching muscles as the man simply held his leg up in the air.

"What… what…?" the teen gasped.

"If you're too tired or lazy to do it yourself…" Slade merely told him and reached for the remote with his other hand. "Let's see what's on the news."

"You can, I can just see my own ass," Robin muttered, being pretty much bent over double at this point.

"Not a bad view that either," the man said airily while being busy channel surfing.

Robin felt a twinge of excitement which he quickly repressed. Not a good time. He decided to relax into the stretch and after a while he spoke up. "You can take it a little bit further."

"Good," the man answered and put more pressure on the leg. "You need to work on your agility so you won't strain yourself with the high kicks. You haven't been stretching correctly in a while."

Robin knew the man was right so he didn't argue.

"Switch," came the order after a while, and Robin lifted his other leg into the air.

He let out a snorting laugh.

"What's so funny?" Slade wanted to know.

"This must look so weird," Robin chuckled.

Slade gave a short snort in agreement.

They went through Robin's whole body like that, and boy was it needed! The teen knew he would be sore as hell the next couple of days and he cursed himself for not training properly. His confidence had gotten knocked down quite a few pegs, that was for sure.

"There," Slade said when he was confident every muscle in the teen's body had gotten what it deserved. "There is a small room down the hall, clean it and carry out enough things to fit a small bed in there. You need a better place to sleep than the couch. I'm going to make us dinner. You need to build some muscles so you'll need to eat properly."

"Ok, thanks… um… sir." Robin said as he, groaning, got to his feet.

Slade chuckled. "No need to be formal outside of practice and work, though I appreciate the effort."

Robin gave the man a grin. "Well, you offered me food."

"Typical strays."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, now get to work."

Robin groaned again when he saw the actual room. It was small and had obviously been used as storage. There were so many boxes and bags which mostly seemed to be full of books. Over it all was a thick layer of dust. Robin sighed and, muscles screaming, got to work.

He decided to more or less empty the room so he could vacuum and dust properly and he was in the middle of it, sneezing his head off, when Slade called him to lunch.

"Allergic?" the man asked when he saw the state of the teen.

"A r _ock_ would sneeze in there! What do you want to do with all those books and stuff?"

"Let's pick up some book cases when we get you a bed," the man said. "And good job, I should have hired a maid a long time ago."

"Thought I was your apprentice," the young her muttered.

"You are what I tell you you are," the man told him with a smirk. "And right now you're hungry. Sit."

"You're right about that, Master," Robin grinned. He was served pasta with chicken and a lot of vegetables in a creamy sauce. It was heaven. He had _tried_ not to have too much pure junk food on the streets but as he wasn't presentable enough to sit down in a proper restaurant, his options were often limited. Something home cooked was heaven.

"I didn't know you were a chef," Robin joked.

"If you can't cook I'll teach you. You can't keep a proper eye on your nutrition intake unless you cook the food yourself."

"And here I just wanted to complement you, and it led to more work…" the teen sighed theatrically.

"Lucky you," the man smirked. "Now take a quick shower and we'll go shopping."

"I… don't have anything clean to change into." Robin blushed. "My other set of clothes probably isn't too bad, though…"

"We'll look into that too then. We both need a shower, at least, we can't completely stink up the place."

"Yes, sir!" the teen agreed and set off for the small bathroom opposite what was supposed to become his room. Slade disappeared into his bedroom and the ensuite bathroom Robin knew was in there.

Twenty minutes later they were both ready to leave and the man surprised the teen by producing a beat up looking van that had been parked on a side street.

"We can't carry a bed and shelves across town," the man simply said.

"I thought you would see that as a perfect training exercise," Robin snickered and got a look. "Sorry," he added quickly, feeling that he had overstepped his bounds a bit. The man nodded curtly, accepting the apology.

If Robin expected them to go to a furniture store he'd be wrong. They ended up at a large charity second hand shop where Slade picked out a narrow bed. The mattress didn't seem to have much in the way of stains on it and Robin couldn't be picky. He still balked when the man told him to pick out some clothes, however. He despised himself for it: they were good, clean clothes and would be washed again before he wore them, he should only be damn grateful… and still it was difficult for him. Bruce had maybe spoiled him but with his parents he had never been left wanting either, though they were by no means rich. He promised himself to make it out of poverty as soon as he could, no matter what it would take. He found a couple of jeans, shirts, t-shirts and a pair of sweats and took them to the man for assessment. Slade just nodded.

"Socks and underwear," he said and pointed. Robin was about to object when he saw that those, at least, were new. Some kind of bulk buy the store had acquired. The teen managed to find some in his size and with that they left the store carrying first the bed and then the three odd book cases Slade had picked out. All of it just barely fit in the van.

* * *

Slade looked in on the boy now and then as he worked with getting his room ready. If he was perfectly honest the man didn't quite know why he had decided to 'keep' him. The young man had loads of potential, yes, and with a partner he could take on more complicated missions without having to hire help. He could also use someone to do the more mundane tasks, but this one was a hero. Heroes needed a lot of retraining to start thinking like normal people. Well. What Slade considered normal.

The kid might be a complete waste of time. Slade watched as Robin bent down to lift a box off the floor. A waste of time with a great ass.

"Lift with your legs," he told the boy before leaving again.

He knew everything in that room was 'safe' when it came to his identity as Deathstroke, he kept all of those things on the locked upper floors, so he had no problem with letting the teen go through the clutter, quite the opposite; it needed to be cleared.

He could give this a month, though, he decided. He already had a few small jobs lined up. One security control, one intimidation, one capture and interrogation. Rather beneath him, normally, but he'd be focusing most of his time on the stray anyway.

"I'll be upstairs working. Call me when you're done," Slade called to the teen.

"Wait!" he called back. The man did, turning around. "I don't have your number, or a _phone_ ," Robin pointed out.

"I meant call for me, I'm not deaf," the man smirked. "But you do have a point. One moment."

He knew he had an extra phone in his bedroom, a prepay one which should have some money left. He made sure the contact list was empty and then added two in.

"Here," he handed the boy the phone. "I've added the phone's number under 'this phone' if you ever need to give it out, and then my own number. Don't overuse it. Once the money runs out you have to pay for it yourself."

"Thank you!" The teen beamed at him, so happy to receive something that was just another invisible leash; now the man could reach him wherever he was, and of course the GPS-tracker of the phone was enabled, but no need to tell the kid that.

"You're welcome," he smiled back. "Now get back to work."

"Do you want all the books up on the shelves, I'm not sure there's room?"

Slade looked the boxes over and pointed to some of them. "These ones, sorted by genre first and author second. The rest I'm taking upstairs later."

"I could help you?" came the eager offer.

Slade smirked. "Upstairs is still off limits. You don't want to let your curiosity get the better of you there."

"Alright, sir," the teen almost sighed.

Slade nodded and picked up a box of books that he could use upstairs, then a bag in his other hand.

"Be good," he said.

"Always!" the teen grinned.

"I somehow doubt it," the man chuckled as he started to climb the stairs.

Slade worked for a couple of hours, planning out the next few crucial days as well as he could. He needed to move in small steps as to not scare the boy off while working him hard enough so he wouldn't have the energy to overthink the situation.

The boy was seriously underequipped when he went out there, and that was one of the more tricky things Slade had to deal with. He knew what the boy used to have in his gadget collection, but just giving him versions of those things would be like saying that 'I know you are the Boy Wonder', something Slade wanted to hide from the teen for now. So… one thing at a time and try to get the teen to ask for what he needed… somehow.

While most of Slade's mind was busy thinking about these things the man was spending time at something as mundane as a grocery list. He had to feed them both now, and feed them well. It's said that the way's to a man's heart is through the stomach, and that was even truer for teenage boys. Slade remembered that his own sons, back in the day, seemed to be able to eat a whole buffalo and then ask for dessert.

By the time he had made them dinner Robin was done and the room looked pristine.

"Did you manage to sort the books like I asked you?" Slade asked as they ate, Robin almost inhaling the food.

"Yeah, no problem. They were all about war or weapons so only two genres," the teen said through his chewing. He glanced up from his plate a moment later. "What? What's with the look?"

"You consider 'war' a single genre? And weapons?"

"Yes?"

"So if I wanted a book on roman war techniques or one on intelligence services during the cold war I'd go to the same shelf?"

Robin gave the man a flat look. "I'm going to have to redo it, right?"

"Yes."

"Three full bookcases?"

"Yes."

"And I assume the weapons also-"

"Yes."

"Yay."

"Well, you should have done it right the first time. You can start right after cleaning up after dinner and going grocery shopping."

"I vote that we hire a butler."

"Had any experience with those?" Slade asked quickly, just seeing if the boy would rise to the bait.

There was a flash of pain in the teen's eyes and then the front was raised again with a snort. "Of course not," he lied.

"Well then. And for the record: you don't get to vote."

"I suspected as much. Are you going to eat that last potato?"

The man chuckled. "Help yourself."

* * *

Robin knew when he was being tested. He also wasn't afraid of hard work. This man reminded him very much of Bruce somehow, and Batman had also made him suffer quite a bit before letting him tag along on missions for the first time. Now, maybe tagging along with Wilson wasn't on his wish list, considering he had a feeling that the man might do some… rather unethical stuff, but he was sure good things would come from training and working for the man too. Besides, he had already pushed some of his limits to survive; he could probably push them a bit more and still be able to live with himself.

If he got good enough he could even take on some of the bigger baddies in the city. He'd probably never see Deathstroke again, that had most likely been a fluke, but there were others, especially the meta humans, he stayed clear of if he could. He wasn't proud of that fact, but he rather wanted to keep breathing.

He cleaned up, went shopping, put the groceries away and then he resorted the books. He learned some in the process as he had to look up a few things to place them correctly. He wasn't sure about some of the books, like wars taking place at the same time but at different places, so he pulled those books out a little bit to ask Wilson later.

Weapons were easier. Artillery and archery weapons were different after all, but they were both range weapons as opposed to melee weapons and did the man also want the books sorted chronologically? And how about the few books that addressed different types of weapons? On the other hand those books were few, as they were for general knowledge, and Wilson had apparently progressed beyond that so he didn't find those kinds of books really interesting. Instead the writings got very detailed with printed scientific reports of chemical and biological weapons, meta studies on new types of explosives and so on. Things that managed to be incredibly scary and incredible boring at the same time.

He was dead on his feet by eight thirty and asked the man if he could go to bed. Only then he discovered that Slade had done laundry and everything he had bought earlier that day was now clean and dry. He'd never been that grateful about having something clean to sleep in in his life.

Falling asleep was easy, waking up was harder. Much harder. And painful. There was a noise he couldn't quite ignore, though. Knocking.

"Apprentice! Wake up!"

"Uhh?" Robin eloquently replied. The door opened.

"Still tired?" Slade stood in the doorway smirking at him, looking like he'd never heard of muscle soreness in his life.

"Just… can't move." The teen grunted and slowly heaved himself into a sitting position. "What time is it?"

"Seven. I figured you might need to sleep in."

"Thanks." Robin wasn't ironic, he had been asleep since before nine the night before so he had gotten plenty of hours. "What's on the agenda?"

"I suspected you'd be sore, so how about sinking into some nice hot water?"

"I'd love a bath, yeah!" Robin perked up and then went "Ooff!" as Wilson had tossed a bag in his lap.

"Bath? No, we're going swimming."

"Well… great."

"What was that?" the man asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Um… enthusiasm?"

"Very unconvincing. Get dressed. Breakfast is ready and the bag contains what you'll need. I was able to find you a pair of trunks last night, they should fit."

"There's a night-open swim wear store around here?" Robin snorted.

"This is Gotham. You can get anything you want at any time of the day, didn't you know?" the man chuckled.

"Yeah, well… apart from decent coffee."

"Yes well… you got me there," the man admitted.

The gym Slade had picked was a 24 hour one that had an exercise swimming pool as well. This early in the morning it was mostly abandoned. The locker room was just a long hallway with lockers and benches lining the walls. One door led out to the showers and then from there you could reach the pool or the gym. There were a few men in there, businessmen, perhaps, trying to get their workout done early.

Slade had paid the entry for Robin, he himself was apparently a member and the teen would be too as soon as his ID cards were done. Right now he was there as a 'guest' and hadn't needed to identify himself. It wasn't a very exclusive place, and the thing it had going for it was probably the pool itself.

Slade started to undress and Robin did the same, with his back to him. There were men walking in naked from the shower, but the teen kept his eyes on the floor, changing in record time and then making sure not to look Slade's way until he was absolutely certain the man was done. The 'trunks' the man had gotten for him was also something to consider as they weren't trunks at all, but Speedos. At least they had a great color; dark red.

"Feel a bit exposed here," he commented as he turned around.

"We're here to exercise, not play in the water," Slade told him, but Robin wasn't quite listening. He was busy gawking. He had seen the man in a t-shirt but never bare-chested. Well, the man was practically naked, wearing a Speedo himself. A black one. Which apparently came with extra bulge.

"Okay, let's hurry up then!" Robin burst out, his voice slightly cracking, as he spun around on his heel almost walking straight into the wall before fleeing into the shower room.

* * *

Slade watched the boy go with barely hidden amusement. So… there was something there. Some interest. He liked that. He was wondering if seducing the boy would cause more problems, though… or bind the stray closer to him. Love made people overcome huge obstacles, after all… like morals. From his own side it was all about lust, though. Lust and control, a heady but dangerous combination. He could lose track of the goal, become too compliant… but that boy's ass in those speedos…

They warmed up doing some slow laps and some stretches. The teen was obviously in some pain but seemed to enjoy the warm water. They started with twenty laps, then stretched again and repeated. By the end of the second time Robin seemed to be slowing down considerable, though, so Slade called it quits and led him to the shower and the sauna, a hot reward for his muscles. He had to remind himself that he was dealing with a human and a teen at that. The boy in question seemed quite happy, however.

"That was great! I haven't swum much," he said, sitting on a warm wooden bench high up in the sauna with a white towel around his hips.

"I could tell you need to work on your technique, but more of that next time."

"What else should we do today?"

"You're free until very early tomorrow morning."

"How early?"

"Around two. I'll wake you up."

"What are we going to do at two in the morning?" Robin wanted to know.

"Avoid people."

As Wilson refused to say anything more Robin just did as the man suggested and took the day off. He even took an afternoon nap but decided to head out into the city at ten. He came back at one thirty, plenty of time, and Slade didn't question him.

"Had a good night?" was all he said.

"Yup."

"Let me know if there's anything you need out there… weapons? Protection?"

"Like a bullet proof vest?" the teen asked.

"I was thinking condoms."

"I'm not a prostitute!"

"So you say," the man smirked, showing that he was –probably– teasing him. "Let's go then."

Robin wasn't too happy about where they ended up.

"This is a shooting range," he said.

"Very astute, you should be a private eye," Slade drawled.

"What are we doing here?"

"Forget what I said, you're terrible at conclusions," the man sighed and shook his head.

Robin blushed angrily. "Of course I know what we're doing here, per _se_ , but what are we doing here _exactly_?"

"Teaching you how to shoot."

"Yes but-"

"Guns."

"AARGH!" Robin couldn't help but let his frustration show.

"Apprentice." The tone was calm but low. Warning.

The teen sighed and shrugged. "Sorry."

"You should be. No more of that tonight. Follow me."

Robin resisted childishly sticking out his tongue at the man's back, mostly because he had a feeling the guy would somehow know.

He was then given an hour lesson on guns and gun safety. Slade had decided to start him off with a Colt M1911, a gun that up to the middle eighties was standard issue side arm in the U.S military. The original had been designed in 1911, so the gun, though since improved, was a relic in its own way. It was the one the man had first been taught to shoot with however, according to him. It was actually still used by some law enforcement agencies in the country today, Slade claimed, but had generally been replaced by a gun they would try later, the Beretta M9.

The Colt used .45 caliber ammo and was semiautomatic, a reason for its long-lived popularity apparently. The magazine held eight rounds and Robin was taught how to load and handle the gun in detail before even firing it once. Then it was time for the real thing. Slade handed him a pair of protective earmuffs and Robin gave the man a questioning look.

"Yes, you will not get to use these in the field, but we're going to practice for a long time and it's idiotic to potentially damage your hearing."

"How about you, then?" the teen asked.

"I'll be fine."

Robin wanted to argue that he'd be fine too, but he sensed that this wasn't the time.

"Shooting positions," Slade said as they came up to the booth. "There are many. I'm going to take you through three common ones today, but in the end it's up to you to find the one you are most comfortable with. This is just basic training, after all, in the field you might have to shoot standing on your head, but knowing how you are _supposed_ to do it is key."

Robin nodded. He knew how traditional martial arts moves might or might not work in a real situation, so he figured it was the same thing here.

"We're starting with the Isosceles stance. Hold the gun with both hands, face the target square on. Good. Straighten your feet, your toes should also face the target. Keep your feet aligned and a little wider apart, about shoulder width or a little more. Knees bent slightly and lean forwards some from the waist. See how your arms form a triangle? Hence the name. Do you feel stable?"

"Yeah, no problem," Robin said as he had settled into the stance.

"Then let's begin."

They did four rounds and it took two for Robin to get used enough to the gun to properly hit the target. He did have a finely honed skill when it came to target practice with other things, though, and the jump cord he used to have was similar to this, so soon he was shooting adequately.

"That's enough, so what's your verdict on the stance?" Slade asked him.

"Well… it feels good, I guess, helps me hit the target, but at first I kinda was pushed back. The first time I almost fell on my ass. That was more or less just by surprise, but…"

"The front-back stability is the downside to this stance. We're going to try one that rectifies that now, the Weaver stance. Hold the gun in your right hand, your arm stretched out. Your left hand then comes up to support your right, yes, like that, elbow bent. Your right foot is moved back, toes angled somewhat outwards and your left foot keeps pointing forward towards the target. How does that feel?"

"Good. More… aggressive in a way," Robin grinned.

He shot two rounds in that stance and then Slade stopped him.

"So what do you think?"

"I can control the recoil better like this, it feels like…" the teen started.

"And the drawback?"

"I'm not sure."

"Imagine if someone was firing at you-"

"I don't need hints!"

"Seemed like you did, apprentice." That warning tone again.

"Sorry, Master." Robin raised the gun again, tried to think of the stance from different perspectives. "Oh! I'm exposing my left side, aren't I?"

"You are. And you might not have any experience with body armor but-"

"My left armpit. It wouldn't be covered in standard issue protection and leads directly to the heart."

"Impressive. Good work, apprentice."

"Thank you, Master!" Robin beamed. It felt better than he wanted to admit to be praised.

"You're still missing an obvious flaw."

"Dammit."

"Imagine that you need to move-"

"The stance locks me down! Good for stationary shooting, but not much good when you have to get out of there, right?"

"Right."

"No offence, Master, but aren't you supposed to teach me better stances as we move along? This seems like a step downwards."

"You're forgetting that we're still on the basics. You need to get to know the gun, know your aim, and this is an often taught and preferred stance on the shooting range. Step one is to teach you how to shoot. Step two is teaching you how to use a gun in combat."

Robin just nodded. He'd never use a gun out there no matter what his new Master might want. Sure, for intimidation it might good… and shooting out lights and such. So learning how to shoot might not be a bad idea. Besides, it was pretty fun.

"The third position has different names; it's a combination of the Isosceles and the Weaver. I was taught it under the name Fighting stance and it was developed in the special forces community of the military. Stand square to the target, feet a shoulder width apart. Move your right foot slightly backwards, no, that's too much. The toes of your right foot should be at about half of your left one. Yes, that's better. You still need to face the target squarely, just like the first position. Flex your knees. Lean slightly forward, arms straight out so your eyes align with the sight. There. Good. Try that out."

Robin did and after two rounds he had his verdict.

"It's a good combination of the two. With my foot moved back I feel better supported and I'm not exposing my sides."

"Exactly. Any draw backs?"

"Not really… apart from like you said that this is a shooting range stance... or controlled situation, anyway. When people use a gun they tend to be moving…"

"Seen that a lot, have you?" Slade asked him with a smirk.

Robin shrugged, not wanting to give away just how much violence he had actually experienced.

"Gang fights," he said dismissingly. "Oh, speaking of that," he turned his gun sideways and shot at the target. He missed completely. Slade was still laughing at him when they left.

* * *

He took the stray back three nights in the row. Around two or three in the morning was a good time if they wanted to be more or less alone. The boy improved rapidly and seemed to be taking to the gun, so Slade introduced him to others, all handguns. He'd move up to rifles later, but they needed some space for that sort of training, especially sniping, that a shooting range couldn't provide. The main goal here was to get the boy used, desensitized, to using a gun at all and it was going very well. Slade had taken to practice his own shooting instead of hanging over the boy's shoulder; he didn't need much instruction anymore.

"Dad?" Slade looked over at the call. It was the code they had decided upon when Robin wanted his attention here. Cops frequented the place and his name was a bit too unusual to go unnoticed. It was clear why the teen had called him over, there was a man leaning on the partition between the shooting booths next to him, leering. Slade had picked a target half way down the room so he wouldn't crowd the teen, and it seemed Robin might have tried to get his attention for a while, judging by the look in his eyes.

"Problem?" Slade drawled as he sauntered over.

"Nah, nah," the man said, drawing away a little. "Just admiring your son's shooting. Saw him empty an eight-clip but there's only four holes."

"Missed that badly, did he?" Slade smirked at the teen, willfully misunderstanding.

"No, no, he hit that _well_ ," the man, who hadn't caught onto the joke, objected. "Real good shooting there."

"Still, seems like you're bother him, maybe move along," Slade suggested. The man's eyes weren't one hundred percent focused, but it was hard to tell why. Could be anything from tiredness to drugs. It paid to be careful.

"He kept touching me, dad," Robin said sullenly, and Slade straightened up like the protective father he was supposed to be.

"Maybe definitely move along or we'll have a problem here," he growled.

The man shrank away, and muttering apologies slunk away with his tail between his legs.

"I could have handled him," Robin told him, and Slade knew he was right of course.

"Yes, but it was a good call not to cause a scene. Fighting on a shooting range is always taken very seriously, and there's security here after all. Cameras too."

The boy nodded and then turned towards his target again.

"A few more rounds?" he asked hopefully.

"Fine. Just no more holes in that target," Slade joked with a chuckle and walked back.

It was time to send the boy out, Slade figured, but to do what? He desperately needed gear, but the man just couldn't provide him with everything he was used to without raising suspicion… so the teen had to come to him… After looking through his workload the man approached the stray the next morning after their workout, handing him a piece of paper.

"Here's an address. I need you to leave a letter for me in this apartment, entering from the outside. It's the sixth floor but a window on the south side is usually open. I want you to do some recon today and when you come back you're going to tell me how to get in there and what gear you might need to do it. We get you the gear and you'll do the job, understood?"

"Yes, Master," the teen nodded, and Slade could see in his eyes that even though he had hesitated at first he was now curious and interested in the challenge.

* * *

Robin watched the building. He had found the window he needed to enter and boy, was it high up… and unfortunately this was one of Gotham's newer buildings, all glass and steel, no nice ledges, stone carvings and gargoyles to hang on to. He needed his jump cord. Desperately. But how? He might have to just go for it… The idea of breaking in didn't faze him much. He wasn't going to steal anything, just leave a note, and Batman hadn't cared much about people's privacy either. Robin had been in the homes of plenty of suspected criminals, in many cases doing what the law stopped the police from doing. Nope, breaking in wasn't a big deal, but he suspected his morals would be tested further on.

"So it will be tricky as hell getting down there… not to speak of up again," Robin told his master half an hour later. "I've seen it done, though… by Batman,"

"Batman?" the man asked.

"You don't know of him?"

"Oh, that vigilante? Hero? I've spent most of my time on the west coast and abroad, I'm afraid… seems every major city has its own set of heroes and villains nowadays. So what does Batman use?"

"He's… not around anymore, but he used something called a jump cord."

"Ah… can they be bought? Made?"

"Made. With the right materials and tools."

"And do you know how to make one?"

Robin squirmed. He had repaired and done maintenance on his own ones many times, but he hadn't even held one since before the night Bruce died. They were all destroyed in the attack.

"No… I mean… I've read the basics of how one works, but…"

"Hmm… and no one has one, I assume?"

"No, I…" Robin suddenly got an idea. "Wait! The Batman museum! They have a lot of things people found after fights, they might have a jump cord as well!"

"Well," the man shrugged. "Seems we're going to a museum then…"

Robin felt his heart race and his mouth dry out as they climbed the stairs to the rather impressive museum building which had a whole wing dedicated to Batman. To Batman, and –he suspected− himself. He had never been here even though it was free. He was afraid it would be too painful, and here he was, forced to keep up a perfect façade.

He tried not to look around too much. It was all set up like a maze of sorts, making you follow a specific path. Robin felt like he was running a gauntlet. A lot of the exhibit were photos both professional and from civilians. Robin even remembered posing for some of them, like that one with the sick kids in the hospital… there were also blown-up articles of their cases, display cases with photos and items belonging to their most known adversaries, a notebook belonging to commissioner Gordon, who had also died that night…

And then there were left behind pieces of equipment. Bat-a-rangs, bird-a-rangs, a piece of cape, a couple of hubcaps from the bat-mobile… rather slim pickings, it might seem, but that just made the mystery deeper, at least according to the museum.

A wall consisted of a huge notice board with the text "Who was Batman?" over it. It contained photos and theories connecting at least a dozen men, mostly dead, to the identity of the Dark Knight. Bruce's photo was up there too.

Robin shuddered. He wanted out of here now. Better find what they had come for quickly.

"Look at that, he had a kid…" Slade had strolled through the exhibition like a normal visitor, stopping to read some things here and there. "His name was… huh… _Robin_."

The teen stopped dead. There was something in the man's voice he didn't like. He looked over at him and Slade was studying him carefully, up and down, and then looking over at a life sized cut out of the boy wonder, from when he had been around twelve. "You knew what the gadget was called and were to find it… don't tell me…"

Robin swallowed. He didn't think a man like Slade wanted an ex-hero as an apprentice, and by now the teen might just know too much. He took half a step backwards, ready to run.

"Don't tell me my apprentice-" Slade looked very much displeased indeed. Robin decided to start running any second now. "-is a fan boy?"

"Huh?"

"You knew his equipment, you've taken his name, trained martial arts because of him… a bit pathetic, kid."

The teen wanted to burst out laughing from relief and easily took on the burden of shame.

"Yeah, sorry, didn't wanna say anything, just a stupid childhood- um…"

"Crush?" the man filled in smoothly.

The teen's cheeks reddened. "I… kinda."

The man snorted. "Well, at least it might give you some ideas… where is the gadget?"

"O-over here, I think," Robin said, not quite believing the bullet he had just dodged, and wondered when it would explode over his head.

* * *

Slade was chuckling on the inside. He had enjoyed scaring the boy, he had to admit, but it wasn't to be cruel. Well. Not only. He had seen the slight shake of the teen's hands, heard the clipped way he talked on the way over here; seeing these things was obviously not easy. Slade had managed to distract him, if only to the point of the kid almost pissing himself, but distracted he was, and here they were looking down into a glass show case with three jump cords in different states of disrepair, one of them the boy's own.

"No alarms connected to the case," Slade mumbled just loud enough for the young man to hear. They were pretty lonely in this wing as it was in the middle of the morning on a school day, but it still paid to keep their voices down.

"We- we're going to steal them?"

"Did you think looking at them would help? Can you pick locks?" The man could practically see the boy's thoughts flickering behind those big, blue eyes. He was pretty sure he could pin point the exact moment that Robin decided that, technically, the things in the case belonged to him. The young man nodded.

"I can pick it… but I don't have any tools."

"Here," Slade handed a basic kit over to him. "Step into that viewing booth and familiarize yourself with them. No more than a few minutes." The booth showed a little informational movie about the dead hero and offered full privacy but was only big enough for one adult.

While the teen was gone, Slade looked around. No one was within view now, but for how long? He had spotted a sleepy looking guard just outside the maze of the exhibition, but nothing in here were really valuable enough to keep a close eye on, he assumed. So what about cameras? Yes, there was one, he spotted, but was it manned? And did it catch the specific case? Slade, under the pretense of following the exhibition and reading the information on the walls walked closer to the wall mounted camera. After checking the manufacturer he thought he knew how wide the lens filmed and was somewhat sure it didn't include their potential loot. They could come back in the night, sure, but that meant breaking into the building itself, which was too much work for something he could build by himself in an afternoon. He had wanted the teen to lead him here, though, and didn't want to let him know that he was more than 'just' a gun for hire, that he was an assassin that would fit very well among the tributes to Batman's enemies if he had run into the man more than a few times.

"Okay, I got it, do we do this now?" Robin asked as he came out from the booth.

"Yes, I'll stand behind you to cover you." Slade replied and soon they both seemed to be very fascinated with the items in the case, leaning over it and in Slade's case pointing and talking.

"Got it!" Robin hissed a minute later. "Should I-"

"No. Let's have some coffee and go to the gift shop."

Robin straightened up. "Okay, you lost me."

"We've been alone here for a while, if the theft is reported it won't take much camera work to find us. We'll return in an hour or so."

"Oookay," Robin said.

"No confidence in your master?" the man smirked down at the young man.

Robin shrugged. "No, yeah, it makes sense I guess… so… coffee?"

* * *

An hour later Robin had to admit the man was making perfect sense. He had been dressed in a new t-shirt, a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, all from the gift shop. A fabric tote bag from the same place was in his hand as he was now strolling after a class of younger teens. As Robin wasn't that tall he could blend in with them pretty well, but made sure the teachers didn't think he was part of their group… it would have been a bit embarrassing to be forced onto a bus back to some high school somewhere…

When Slade had seen the class coming he had decided to let Robin do this alone, and the teen had agreed to that too. They were his stuff, after all, and they could always return them when they didn't need them anymore. Well, _he_ could, because he had a feeling Slade wouldn't care.

When the class passed the jump cords, not paying them much attention, Robin waited until they were out of sight and then quickly lifted the lid off the case and grabbed all three, stuffing them in his bag. He lowered the lid back and then left, rejoining the class that had reached the end by now.

Robin wanted to leave, knowing that Slade waited for him across the street, but he didn't want to attract attention to himself either.

"Alright, everybody, the bus is here," a woman suddenly announced loudly and Robin drew a sigh of relief, slipping out with the rest of them.

"Went well, I assume?" Slade asked him.

"Yeah," Robin nodded, handing the bag over. His heart was racing, his breathing quick. He recognized the symptoms and grinned. "It was kind of a rush, actually."

The man grinned at him.

"You've seen nothing yet," he promised.

 _To be continued…_

A/N: Slade should be a cult leader, he's good at drawing people in step by step… ;)


	3. Chapter 3: Dog Tired

**A/N** : Can't believe that I remembered that it's friday…. Here's chapter 3! I wrote everything before I divided them into chapters which means I'm not 100% sure what happens in each part but…. um…. enjoy?  
 **  
Chapter 3: Dog Tired**

"I'm going to take these upstairs and work on them," Slade announced when they came home, indicating the jump cords.

"But I could-" Robin began but then stopped himself. He wasn't supposed to know how to fix one, after all.

"You could what? Why don't you peel some potatoes instead?" Slade said dismissingly. "Have lunch ready in an hour."

Robin muttered to himself as he worked, but he was the apprentice here and he couldn't let on that he knew more than his master about this. The man seemed clever enough, he'd figure it out. Hopefully. Robin didn't fancy falling to his death at the hands of amateurs.

Slade, it turned out, didn't fancy eating amateur meat balls.

"Follow the recipe next time. _Any_ recipe," Robin was told. "I'm making progress and I should have one done for you by tomorrow, and then we'll go see if you can learn how to use it. First I need your measurements, though."

"For what, sir?" Robin asked carefully. After messing up lunch he wasn't about to step out of line.

"Protective gear. You saw what the original Robin was wearing. You're not going to get anything as gaudy, but it's a good idea to have some protection, movement and places to store things."

"Like… like those belt pockets they had?" the teen asked hopefully.

"Exactly. I like my gear and weapons with me too when I'm on a job," Slade told him. "Let's use what seemed to work for the Boy Wonder."

Robin readily agreed. This was a dream come true! He was going to get some professional equipment again, and that would help him put the city straight! Well… maybe the neighborhood at least…

Robin fought to keep the blush of his face when Slade took his measurements. The man was very thorough and hands on, which was alright as long as it was above the waistline.

"Inseam, thigh and crotch are important," Slade told him. "Trust me, you want full protection down there, but you don't want chafing."

"Sure, but I've never been to a tailor that took this long," Robin pointed out.

"When have you ever been to a tailor, I thought you were a street rat?" the man asked him with a dismissive snort and Robin swallowed his pride and shrugged.

"Well, seen it on TV then," he said.

"Dress pants are slightly different than body armor," the man told him.

"If you say so, sir." Robin kept his voice even and aloof, making the man snort again.

"Well, you can stop squirming, I'm done," Slade said and stood up. "Any preferable colors?"

"I like red…?" the teen said hopefully.

"… _such_ a fan boy…" the man sighed and shook his head. "We'll see," he added. "My contacts are rather good at putting together a color scheme that melts in. Now, about hiding your identity. I use a ski mask and sometimes protective head gear, but I assume…?"

Robin grinned at him, making the man sigh again.

"Eye mask it is. Well, at least you might confuse people enough to get the upper hand."

* * *

Slade knew he was getting the boy exactly what he wanted. He also knew that would bind him stronger to him. Yes, he was giving the Boy Wonder back to the world, but it would not be the Boy Wonder they had lost, it would be Slade's version of him. A better version. Less idealistic, more willing to live in the gray zone.

The next day they took a trip to a big abandoned factory where Robin could practice climbing and swinging between buildings. Naturally the boy had to pretend to never have done this before which was amusing to watch, but he also had to relearn some things. He had grown up in the past four years and that had changed his body. It was lucky he had kept training reasonably hard, or this would take weeks. Now it just took the day for Slade to be willing to let the kid out in the city.

* * *

Robin's heart was pounding and it wasn't because how far below the pavement was. He was hanging right outside a slightly open window, the envelope he was supposed to deliver securely in his jeans pocket. He was dressed in normal dark clothes and wearing a ski mask as his new outfit wouldn't be ready for some time yet, but it still rather felt like the old days. Sure, he was about to enter someone's home uninvited but the sense of adventure was familiar.

The window was easy enough to open and then he slipped inside. He had been assured that the place was empty, Slade was currently monitoring the owner and Robin had an earpiece so he'd get a warning if he should return early. Still, it paid to be careful. It was easy to find the master bedroom, and there, on a pillow of the neatly made double bed he left the envelope as instructed. It was thin. Couldn't contain more than one, max two pieces of paper. Robin had no idea what it contained, though and knew he was in no position to ask. But how bad could a note be?

He climbed out of the window, grabbed the jump cord, which he had let hang outside, and had it lift him back up. Mission accomplished, no problem. He felt elated as he let the man know, getting a short affirmative answer in reply, and then hurried back home over the roofs.

Slade was already there when he arrived.

"Good job, apprentice," he said and the teen stood up a little straighter, trying not to beam. "Any problems with the gear? Anything that needs adjusting?"

"Nope, no problems at all!" Robin said, now not being able to keep from grinning.

"Alright. You can go to bed."

"Actually, can I head out some more? I'm not tired." That was an understatement, his body was flooded with adrenaline and Robin felt like he could jump buildings without a cord.

"Sure. Shooting practice starts in five hours. You better not be tired then."

"No sir!" Robin promised and left.

The night was amazing. He flew again, finally, between buildings, just barely able to withhold a whoop of joy. Then he heard a scream.

He returned home an hour later, bruised but grinning.

Slade was apparently ready for bed, standing in the kitchen in just sleeping pants. When Robin came in through the door the man walked up to him, inspecting him. The teen winced a little as his jaw was caught and his head turned this way and that, studying the small bruise on his cheek.

"What happened?"

"Just a little scuffle," the teen tried. "Nothing serious."

"Seems like whenever I let you out of my sight you get into a fight. What are you doing out there?" the man asked, frowning, still holding on to the teen's jaw and forcing him to look him in the eye. Robin felt himself getting hotter and squirmed.

"I… actually I… I helped someone."

Slade sighed and let him go. "A bit of gear doesn't make you a hero, kid!"

"Well, I just couldn't walk away!" Robin objected, ignoring that he had actually been running towards the scream.

"Of course you can. And from now on you'll bring a gun."

Robin scrounged up his nose and opened his mouth but was silenced by a look from the man.

"No arguing," Slade said. "You need more weapons as well, what do you think you'll like?"

That got the teen in a better mood and soon he rattled off a list of throwing knives, escrima sticks, bo-staff− Slade raised his hands.

"So everything the Boy Wonder had, then?"

"Well… yes," Robin admitted. If Slade thought he was a fan boy then he might as well pretend to be, no matter how embarrassing it was. "I've practiced!"

"I'm not surprised," the man muttered. "Go to bed. You'll barely get three hours of sleep now."

"Yes, Master," Robin grinned.

He wasn't quite as happy at the shooting range a couple of hours later.

"I told you you'd be tired," his master smirked at him. "No use in looking grumpy."

"'m not tired…" Robin muttered, but that was a lie. The adrenaline rush had kept him awake until about fifteen minutes before Slade woke him up, and he wasn't used to that kind of lifestyle anymore. It was going to be a long day.

"Your shooting says otherwise," the man pointed out. "Focus. Tiredness is not an excuse to be sloppy."

Robin had a flashback so strong he almost heard Batman's voice at that point and had to take a deep breath. But he did better afterwards.

Slade wouldn't let him have a minute's rest all day. That evening some of his gear arrived and he had to try the outfit on, which made him wake up a bit. It was a great suit in black, grey and dark red details at the seams, all made of lightweight protective mesh that, Robin suspected, might even be strong enough to withstand a bullet. His chest, abdomen, back and groin had even stronger protective plates sewn in, moving individually so they didn't hinder him while fighting or running. There was a holster at the small of his back for a gun and there seemed to be holders for his other weapons as well, which Robin questioned.

"When you told me about what you wanted yesterday I called and had them make some additions," the man explained. "How is the belt?"

"It's great," the teen said, happy with the explanation. "But rather empty, huh?"

"We'll fill it up. I have some contacts working on replicating your hero's smoke pellets. There's already picklocks, cuffs, steel wire, some tools and lube in there."

"L-lube?" Robin gaped.

"For creaking hinges and such."

"Oh, of course."

"And for getting big objects into tight narrow spaces."

"I… y-yes I see how… that could be… useful," Robin stammered and didn't know where to look. The man had said it with a completely straight face and level voice so he couldn't possibly have meant anything with it. Right?

"Get those things off now, it's time for a run," Slade told him.

Robin made a little bit of a complaining noise, very faint. He had been trying to at least get to sit down a bit all day, but so far no luck. It was already getting late, why couldn't he just go to bed?

"What was that?" Slade asked.

"Nothing, master!" Robin quickly answered.

"Better not be. Tonight you'll be in bed when I tell you to."

"Yes, sir!" the teen hurriedly agreed.

There was a park not that far away, so they ran to it, and then five laps around it before heading back. At that point they had been running for little over an hour.

"Shower," Slade told him. "Then I need you to run an errand for me. It's time to earn back some of the money I've spent on you."

The teen felt nervous but nodded. He couldn't back out because of a simple errand. He _was_ indebted to the man, after all.

"That was a long shower," he was told twenty minutes later.

"Sorry," Robin apologized. The fact was that he had leaned against the shower wall and closed his eyes for just a moment. It had been an intense couple of days and the lack of sleep last night didn't help.

"Well, you're a teenage boy I guess it's understandable," the man leered at him.

"Yeah, I- No! No I wasn't-!"

"Nothing to be ashamed of."

"But I wasn't-"

"Well, that's enough. Here." The man gestured to ten guns laid out on the table. "I want you to take these over to The Stacked Deck, do you know where that is?"

"Yeah," Robin nodded. It was a really shady nightclub in the Otisburg area.

"You go there and you talk to Big John. No one else, understood? You introduce yourself as Robin and he'll know the deal. These are cold guns, no serial numbers, not been used in any illegal activity, and he wants them. I want at _least_ five thousand, but he'll try to haggle, so you start at seven."

"What if he won't do five, should I leave?" Robin asked.

"You're bringing five thousand home or you don't come back at all."

Robin's eyes widened, but he nodded curtly.

"Be armed," Slade warned him. "But go in civilian clothes."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

As soon as the boy was out the door Slade dialed a number.

"Big John? Slade here. I'm sending your guns over, but I want to ask a favor. The delivery boy is my new apprentice, code name Robin. I've told him to ask for seven and not to go lower than five. I'm trying to teach him the ropes. We said five and a half but I'll cut five hundred off if you play along. Also, he only knows me by name, so don't mention Deathstroke. Deal? Good man. Don't be too hard on him, I just want to know how hard he's willing to work to stay in my good graces." Slade listened for a moment and then chuckled. "Yes, I know I'm an asshole. Call me back when you send him on his way."

* * *

Robin was sweating bullets. The guy, a mountain of a man almost as wide as he was tall, refused to go over four thousand! Robin had no idea how to haggle he had never learned to. He's seen it done, of course, but it was very different when you were doing it yourself, for real.

"Five. I can't go any lower," he said decisively, crossing his arms. They were in a small room, just him and the John-guy, but the man had cronies just outside the door, guarding it. The guns were on a table and Robin stood in front of it, while the man was seated on the other side.

"Tell you what," the man said, raising Robin's hope. "For such a handsome young man… I'll go to four-fifty."

The sleep deprivation and the fact that so much was riding on this finally got to Robin and he groaned, throwing his arms out and head back.

"My master will kill me, ok?!" he pleaded. "He said five! Five or don't come back. Come on, please!"

The man burst out in a big laugh.

"Your negotiation technique is interesting," he said before laughing again, his whole body shaking. Right then he could have been a jolly uncle at a Christmas dinner table, but Robin had read him better than that and knew the man was dangerous. "Wilson will have to teach you a few things."

"Well, that won't happen unless you pay up," Robin muttered sullenly, not happy about being ridiculed but feeling he deserved it. You don't say 'come on, please' when negotiating with a crime lord for crying out loud!

"Let's make a deal. You're a pretty young man. Work for me for an hour and you'll get your five thousand."

"Why do everyone think I'm a whore?!" Robin burst out. "No, no deal."

"You don't have to touch or be touched, my boy… though that would pay more," the man suggested with a leer. "No? Well, come with me and I'll show you what I want you to do. You can decide then."

"What about the guns?" Robin asked gesturing to the table.

"They will be safe here. You trust me, don't you?"

Big John laughed heartily again as Robin gathered the goods up and put them back in his bag.

"Well, Wilson at least didn't hire a complete idiot," the man admitted.

Robin stared at the scene from back stage. Or scenes, plural, as there were several of them. Some round and then some like this, which was a long catwalk out to… well… a pole.

"D-dancing?" he gulped.

"Well, it's more like grinding and showing as much skin as you're comfortable with," the man said.

"For one hour."

"Well, it depends on how good you are, of course. The money comes from your audience," Big John said and gestured to a female dancer who just got a bill stuffed into her thong.

"I thought you said no touching," Robin growled.

"Well, they throw money on the stage too, of course. Again, it's how much you want to make and how fast you want to make it… I'll let you keep it all, but one hour max."

"Does anyone even wanna see a guy dancing?" the teen objected. "Those are all women out there."

"Oh, trust me; I know my guests, they would love it. Up for it? I'll announce that your show starts in twenty minutes and then take you to the wardrobe."

"Wardrobe?"

"Yes, you can't perform in what you have on. Did you say your name was Robin? I have something old we can dust off that some of these people would go crazy for."

Robin was really at the end of his rope. He needed that extra money. He had saved enough to cover the cost himself but if Big John talked to Slade, which he was sure to do… well. The man would consider the mission a failure and Robin would be out on his ass again, after just tasting a bit of the good adventurous life again. One hour of humiliation might be worth it.

Fifteen minutes later he regretted his decision, but it was too late.

"I can't believe this…" he groaned quietly.

"Oh, believe it. My customers are usually… well… slightly above the law and… well, they get off on things like this. And most will remember the Boy Wonder, I'm sure."

Robin groaned again. He was dressed in a very skimpy version of his old green shorts, which glittered as he moved. His lower cheeks were peeking out and his front was just barely covered. He had a short cape and a red top which was barely long enough to accommodate the "R" symbol on his chest. He was wearing a mask but with no lenses it looked more like makeup framing his face, and of course did very little to hide his identity.

Big John entered the stage to introduce him.

"We all knew the little brat back in the day, but now he's all grown up. Well… maybe not legally." That got some rowdy jeers and laughs. "But without daddy bats he has fallen on hard times-". Faked sad sounds and more laughter. "So be kind to the boy, will you? He's new but working for _you_ now. Let me introduce, Robin, the Boy Wonder!"

Robin took a deep breath, which mostly consisted of smoke of different kinds as the air in the place was quite putrid, and then walked onto the stage. He was met with whistles and cat calls. He almost froze but knew that wasn't an option. He didn't just have to do this; he had to do it _well_. The music was blaring and at least gave him a clear beat, but he rarely danced at all apart from when he was one hundred percent sure he was alone… He glanced at the professionals on the other stages and began moving along with them.

Glancing down on his audience he realized with a start that he recognized quite a few faces. None of the 'big' names, but thugs, mafia leaders, people like that who he had run into quite a few times in his hero-days. It was humiliating to stand before them like this now, but… also a little bit exciting…

He kept taking clues from the other dancers. He didn't know how to use a pole, but he was a better acrobat than most of them so he soon had it figured out, to his audience's delight. Jeers and rather adult suggestions were raining over him and more and more people seemed to migrate to his scene. Most comments seemed to be about his ass. Robin knew he was decent looking but he hadn't given much thought to his ass. He was more of a chest and arm's man himself.

"Yeah, show us some tits!" a really drunk man bellowed, and Robin realized that his very short top had slid up a bit, the bottom part of his areolas were peaking out. It was pure instinct that made him slap his hands over his chest. Of course going around bare-chested was nothing to him, normally, but in this situation, and the way the men leered at him… it just felt like too much. His reaction, however, was met with a loud cheer and dollar bills started falling onto the stage. Robin was stumped for a moment before he realized that they liked him acting coy and shy. So be it then. He swallowed the last of his pride and really got to work.

He tried to count the bills as they landed on the stage, and he snatched them up when he passed so they wouldn't 'go missing'. He had to keep an eye on the time, too, but luckily there was an illuminated watch on a far off wall. He soon figured out who the rich men were and catered to them just enough for them to bring something more out then one dollar bills.

"I have a twenty here for those titties!" a man shouted.

"Awww… they are worth a bit more… each!" Robin called back, his fingers circling his nipples on the outside of the fabric. "Don't cha think? Who here really appreciates them?"

A man flashed him two fifty dollar bills and Robin grinned, getting down on his hands and knees and crawling over to him. "Now we're talking... finally someone who knows quality and can afford to pay for it…" He grinned, baiting the rest of the crowd. He needed five hundred, though, and he didn't have that much time left. He let the man put the fifties down his top, allowing a bit of groping before pulling away again. With the ones and the random five and tens he thought he was about half way now.

He threw himself back into work and yes, he let hands touch a bit, but only if they paid well.

Suddenly there was someone with him on the stage, though. Robin saw that it was Big John just a second before he was about to kick him off.

"And that was all from our lovely little hero," the man said. When the audience objected he raised his hands. "The boy needs to go back to the bat-cave, but if you've been a generous audience he might be persuaded back!"

Some more bills rained over the stage and Robin quickly swept them up. He had lost count at some point and was now afraid that he hadn't made enough.

As they walked off the stage and was about to leave the room a man Robin recognized as the man who had paid for a glimpse of his chest came up to them.

"How much for a private room?"

"The boy doesn't do that," Big John said.

"I'll pay a thousand."

The owner of the club turned to Robin. "Well?"

"No." The teen shook his head. "Still not a prostitute," he said, his face red.

He escaped to the dressing room and changed quickly. He had put the guns in his locker, and he knew it wasn't the safest place but he couldn't very well have brought them with him on stage.

"That went well, didn't it?" Big John asked a little later, back in that small, bare back room.

"Sure hope so," Robin muttered and glanced at the time. "Wait, I danced longer than an hour?"

"About one and a half. I couldn't disappoint my guests so I didn't want to stop you too soon."

"As long as you keep the deal," Robin growled.

"Of course. All you made is yours. Speaking about that, what did you make?"

Robin withdrew the wad of cash and started counting. When he finished he stared at the pile of wrinkled bills. "A little over one thousand five hundred!" he exclaimed.

"My, my, very generous crowd tonight."

"I've been in the wrong business," Robin joked, but Big John just agreed.

"Indeed. If you want a gig, let me know. I'll take a cut of your earnings, of course, but we'll come to an understanding, I'm sure."

"Thanks, but I don't think so," Robin said, but kept his voice friendly. He'd been on the streets before, and might get there again, and this was easy money.

"My loss, I'm sure. So, here is the cash. Give Slade six thousand and keep the little extra for yourself. I'm sure your master will be pleased."

"I sure hope so," Robin smiled tiredly.

"Just stop on by any time, my boy. Especially if you feel like shaking that ass."

"I will," the teen promised and was then escorted out. He spent some of the money on a cab Big John got for him. He had now been awake for over twenty four hours and all he wanted to do was sleep. First he had to report to Slade, though. He could hope the man had gone to bed, but he knew he wouldn't have.

* * *

Slade received a message on the phone soon after Robin got into the cab.

'Lovely boy. He worked hard,' it said and there was a video attached. Slade opened it curiously. After a moment he had to agree. Robin had worked hard indeed.

* * *

"Got you six thousand, master!" Robin announced as he got in through the door, handing Slade the money.

"Impressive," the man nodded taking the envelope the teen handed him. "Why are there so many bills in here? And so many 'ones'?"

"Um… he… well… he had to get some from the register," Robin said.

"I see. Now how about telling me the truth?"

Robin, very, very reluctantly, did.

"At least I got you the money," he ended.

"That you did. And you learned to use your assets while doing it," the man agreed. Robin didn't think you normally put so much empathy on 'ass' in assets but he didn't comment. Then he narrowed his eyes. The man had taken all this very well. Suspiciously well.

"You knew, didn't you?" Robin accused him.

As an answer Slade raised his phone and showed him a half naked guy−

"Fuck! You set me up, didn't you!?"

"Mind your tone. And no, this was all Big John's idea. Still, I'm sure you would have made more quicker if you wanted to. Did anyone ask the price? How much?"

"Fuck-" Robin spotted one of the man's eyebrows rising just in time to stop himself cursing him out. "… me?" he ended lamely.

"Yes. To fuck you."

"Ha! Funny! I'm not a whore!"

"Oh, I don't think you are anymore, I was just asking out of personal interest," the man smirked.

Robin was too tired to blush or respond. "May I go to bed now?" he just pleaded.

"Of course."

"Thank you!"

"Shooting practice in five hours."

* * *

Slade knew he was running the boy ragged for the next week, but it was needed. He had planned to bring him along on a mission which he didn't want the boy to be able to over think, and Robin objected less when he was tired; he just followed orders. That was something the Bat must have installed in him and it was very useful.

First, however, Deathstroke had a job, and that meant keeping Robin out of it. That would be no problem, however.

"Apprentice?"

"Yes, sir?" The teen's voice was tired but resigned to accepting the new task his master had decided to give him.

"If you have any errands to run do so now. I want you back here at ten, so you have two hours."

"What are we doing at ten?"

"I have work to do, but you're not needed. I'll be going out, and I want you home."

"Okay, what should I do?" The boy seemed a bit confused.

"Watch TV?" Slade suggested with a smirk.

"You… you mean like… time off? I can do anything?"

"Yes. Apart from leaving the house."

"So… sleep?"

"If you want."

"I'd love to! Thanks!" Robin turned around.

"Where are you going?" Slade asked.

"To bed?"

"It's eight in the evening."

"Yeah… but I'm tired?"

"Your free time starts at ten, clean the kitchen and the bathrooms and then vacuum."

Slade saw the teen's shoulders slump.

"Yes, sir."

The man chuckled quietly. He couldn't let the boy get _too_ much rest, after all…

He left at ten and saw that Robin was already making a beeline for his bedroom as the door was closing. Slade quickly scaled the back of the building and fetched his gear. It was a bit more involved than just leaving from the top floor, but even though Robin surely had seen the roof hatch the teen didn't know that Slade used it as a back door and that's exactly how Slade wanted it.

After suiting up he left for the docks where he met a customer. The meeting went well, a price was settled and some paid in advanced as usual. The job was going to take place the next night and it would be perfect for the boy's first real taste of this life as it wasn't far from something he would have done with Batman. Well. Technically it might be.

* * *

It felt surreal. He was running over the rooftops with someone again, off on adventure, into danger! Robin couldn't help but grin. He knew his master wasn't a hero, but the mission was pretty straight forward. There was a shipment in a warehouse they needed to protect from people who were going to try to intercept it as it was being moved. Slade had inside information and it was going down tonight, apparently.

When they arrived the scene was quiet. Slade sent a message to someone on his phone.

"I told our client that we're in position. They will be here shortly to open the warehouse down there and start loading the goods onto their trucks. It's our job to make sure they can do so without being interrupted."

"But they think they might be?" Robin asked.

"They are pretty certain. They had a snitch in the other camp. Listen, both sides would like to do this quietly, attract as little attention as possible to this place and themselves, so I believe they will try to do this without firearms, but if you need to, you draw that gun."

"I-" Robin began to object.

"I'm not ordering you to kill anyone, but if you need to I expect you to use it. As a deterrent, to injure or frighten is up to you. Kill if you have to."

"I'm not a killer."

"Listen very carefully, kid: you're not the Boy Wonder. You're not a hero. What you are is my apprentice and a survivor. So do what you have to do to survive. In this case: stay on my good side. You don't owe society anything, but you owe me a great deal, understood?"

Robin hesitated for a moment. The man was right, he guessed, he didn't owe society anything, especially not the hero community; they had abandoned him. He still had his ethical compass, though, but even Batman used his sparingly when he had to. "Yes, Master," he nodded.

Slade nodded back. The man was wearing a ski mask again, while Robin was in his brand new uniform, complete with face mask. It felt good and helped him calm the nerves which were creeping up on him. Waiting was always the worst.

"Stop fidgeting. Patience, Robin," the man told him a moment later.

The teen let out a soft snort of laughter. The chiding sounded familiar. Batman also used to have the patience of a rock.

Soon enough two trucks arrived and backed up towards the warehouse. Men poured out of the trucks, five from each, and it didn't take them long to open the warehouse and start loading small crates into the vehicles. Two of them stood guard, but it was Robin and Slade, from their elevated position, who first spotted the cars silently parking just around the corners all around the warehouse. There was at least double the amount of men about to attack their clients.

"Okay, time to work. Remember, those trucks need to leave here," Slade said. "No matter what."

"Yes, sir," Robin nodded and followed the man's lead.

Slade, he noticed, didn't seem to worry about breaking his ankles. The man hit the ground before him, even though Robin used his jump cord. Slade used things he could grab and land on, on his way down and it was impressive to see a man that size move like that. Something deep in Robin's mind rang a little bell but he shrugged it off. Slade had reminded him of Batman before, it was probably just that.

The man barked a warning to the men at the trucks and Robin was glad they didn't mistake them for the enemy as they were armed. He knew the man had said both parties wanted to keep this quiet, and knew exactly what he had meant by that. Predators didn't announce their kill as there were always scavengers around. Well… and law enforcement of different kinds.

Suddenly two of the cars came roaring down the street, blocking off the exit for the trucks and men poured in from all directions.

Slade was on them instantly and Robin withdrew his bo-staff thinking that was the safest and easiest way to knock these men out.

"Freeze, police!"

Robin did just that as he stared at the man in front of him who had shouted the warning. Then he glanced around. The attackers weren't dressed as cops but their gear was all top of the line, and all the same. Fuck. The man was holding a stun gun, not a real one, but the teen knew that if he was hit with the prongs, which would definitely reach him from here, it was game over. Slade hadn't slowed down one bit, but seemed to be keeping an eye on him.

"Apprentice, move!"

 _Guess I'm fighting the cops, then,_ Robin thought to himself. Wouldn't be the first time. Some cops didn't like Batman and some cops didn't like homeless Robin. Well. They might not have been completely unprovoked at those times, but still.

A throwing knife took care of the stun gun and as the cop fired just as it hit, he somehow managed to stun himself. Well, that was one down.

He threw himself into the fight and managed to knock out three more cops. He didn't have time to watch Slade fight but from what he sometimes saw from the corner of his eye the man was brutal. Robin wasn't sure some of those officers were going to wake up again, much less work, but he couldn't think about those things now, he couldn't afford to.

He stopped one of the men from climbing into the driver's seat of one of the trucks, while Slade ordered two men to move the cars blocking the way. Robin looked around, but it all seemed quiet. He had taken out five people which meant that Slade must have taken out about fifteen. That quickly. How in the hell had he done that? The teen couldn't help but feel a bit of awe towards the man. Or _more_ awe he should say. In the beginning he had looked down on him a bit, thinking he was just a glorified thug with some skill, but there seemed to be more to Mr. Wilson than that. Much more. Another bell jingled in his mind but was ignored.

"Everything's loaded!" one man yelled.

"Then go!" Slade told him just as sirens started to blare in the distance. Robin didn't know if those sirens were for them or for any number of other crimes going on in the city right now, but it seemed to be their cue to leave.

"Fucking copper," the man who was apparently about to drive the truck Robin was at sneered and kicked the man on the ground. Hard. In the neck.

"No!" Robin called out as he heard a noise that would haunt him for a very long time.

"Robin!" Slade barked. "Here! Now!"

The teen balled his fists and glared at the sneering driver for a moment before starting falling back towards his master.

"Yeah, you obey, little boy. You'll learn how to kill coppers soon enough," the driver taunted him. "OW!" was ne next thing he said as he staggered backwards with a broken nose.

"BOY!" Slade snapped and then the teen obeyed.

The man wasn't happy, but Robin didn't expect the back handed slap that had him sprawled on the ground a second later, head ringing.

"Get up. You have more of that coming. You'll learn not to disobey a direct order again," the man growled, loud enough for the other men to hear. The punched man was being helped inside the truck, swearing and spluttering, while someone else took over his driving duties.

Robin's head ached as he quietly followed Slade back. He had no other option. Well, he could run, but he had a feeling the man would find him, and he would make sure to leave the teen with as little as he had found him with, which now seemed pathetically little.

"He killed him!" Robin blurted out as soon as they were back home.

"Not a word. Go out back," Slade ordered.

The teen opened his mouth but thought better of it when he saw the man tensing. He entered their training area out back nervously.

"I don't believe violence is a good teacher," Slade told him slowly, circling the young man. "The strike back there was for my client's sake. I don't want them to think I'm soft on you."

"So… so you're not going to beat me?" Robin asked.

"Oh, I'm going to beat you. But you'll get a chance to defend yourself. Thirty minutes of sparring," the man withdrew his phone and a moment later there were numbers on the screen, counting down. Slade put the phone down on top of a small rickety table.

"There. Twenty seconds until we start. You do not run. You fight. If you can't fight anymore, you stay down and take it. You do not try to get away, understood?"

"Yes, sir, but-"

The phone beeped.

Robin thought Slade had been tough on him before. Turned out he had been holding back. The teen managed to avoid the first blows and block one before a fist planted itself in his gut. He tried to avoid fighting back at first, but Slade wouldn't let him, barking at him to strike back, taunting him when he ducked out of reach. He knew Robin's buttons and was pushing them relentlessly. The teen struck back, harder than he had ever struck another human being before. And it felt good. Slade barely seemed to feel it at all, but the teen got a grunt of approval. So he struck again. And again. There was nothing much he could do against Slade, though. The man was like a tidal wave and all the young hero could do was gasp for breath and try to stay above the surface. When he hit the ground hard for the fifth time he couldn't find it in himself to stand again.

"Get up."

"C-can't—p-please…"

"Get. Up."

"I… can't-ARGH!" Robin felt like his hair was being ripped out as the man used it to lift him and then push him into the stone wall that enclosed the space. He was on his feet, though. He took another breath, painfully, and managed to duck to the side from a blow that might have crushed his spine. He started to get scared. How far would Slade go? So far he had no broken bones, and he knew it was all due to the man's skill and his new protective uniform, but… was that about to change?

He backed away from the man, trying to stay out of reach now, composing himself, looking for weaknesses. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his arm. It left a streak of red across it. He ran his tongue over his teeth. All there, none of them loose. That was good at least. It appeared that his little break was now over as Slade attacked once more.

When the timer finally rang Robin let out a sob of relief. He had been on the ground for the last five minutes or so receiving kicks and punches hard enough to hurt without lasting injury.

"I… thought… you… didn't…" the teen had to stop to breathe before he continued, "believe… in… corporal punishment…"

"I don't. But this wasn't. You didn't have to have a single bruise on you right now. Get good," Slade told him and left him there in the dirt as he walked inside.

The man's fists had hurt but those words somehow managed to cause him pain on a deeper level. Get good. Not 'get better'. But he _was_ good, dammit! Slade had said so himself! Well, obviously not good enough. But he would be. He'd show him.

He limped back inside. Slade was nowhere to be seen. Robin took a shower, returned to his room and was asleep before he had even contemplated changing out of his towel.

 _To be Continued…_

A/N: Who else is glad Slade isn't their PT? *raises hand*…. On the other hand, I'd lose weight faster… the pound would run away in pure fear… *lol*


	4. Chapter 4: It's a Dog-Eat-Dog World

IMPORTANT A/N: the record mentioned in this chapter was correct at the time of writing (May 2017) but was broken just a few days later. That will be addressed in a later chapter.

 **Chapter 4: It's a Dog-Eat-Dog World**

Slade was watching the stray sleep again. The boy was curled up next to his twisted blanket. He was on his side, his top leg pulled up more than the other, creating quite a tantalizing view as he was naked. Slade didn't have time to enjoy himself though, and reluctantly decided that it was time to start the day.

"Up."

The effect was immediate and the boy jumped from the bed. When he discovered that his towel had long fallen off he made a funny little noise and reached for the sheets.

"No," Slade ordered. "Stay as you are. Hands by your side." The man studied the blushing boy from all angles, walking around him slowly. "Arms straight out," he ordered next and the boy obeyed. The man now ran his hands over the sides and torso of the teen, which made the blush deepen. Slade couldn't help it; it amused him. "Arms straight up," the man said next, noting that the boy winced a little bit at the movement as he obeyed. "Good. Get dressed. I expect breakfast in thirty minutes."

As he left he was pleased with what he had found. Bruises and scrapes but nothing deeper. The suit had protected the boy well and Slade himself hadn't gone overboard. The kid would feel it for a week or two, but hopefully it would teach him something too. It had most likely also distracted the boy from the harsh realities of what had happened last night, but Slade knew he had to address that, and did so right after breakfast.

"What are your thoughts about our mission last night?" he asked, wanting to see what the first thing that popped into the teen's head was.

"They were the police! And that guy killed one of them!" Robin blurted out honestly.

"True."

"You didn't say we had to fight the cops!"

"I didn't, no. Didn't want you to think you were a hero, like I said. Besides, the police are easy, they have specific training and almost never divert from it."

"Still-"

"Still what? You agreed to be my apprentice, what did you think you were getting into?"

"You said you wouldn't get me involved in anything 'too bad'," Robin reminded him.

"I didn't. As of right now you would just be wanted for assault and possibly accessory to murder."

"W-what?" The boy paled.

"How would you describe it? You knocked him out, after all."

"But I… I… I didn't- I mean, I…"

"I know. But you belong to my side now, boy, better get used to it."

"And if I don't want to?"

Slade knew this was a make-or-break situation. He could threaten the kid, of course, he could even reveal that he knew who he was, but he had a feeling that that kind of leash wouldn't work in the long run and only make the stray's animosity towards him grow. He didn't want that. Loyalty was a stronger bond.

"Then you know where the door is. You won't be allowed to take anything more than what you had when you came here with you, but the trial month isn't up for a little over a week."

The boy nodded, looking down at the floor. He looked a bit unhappy but Slade didn't mind. Life wasn't easy and the boy should have learned that by now.

The man decided to prod a bit more. "Was this the first time you saw someone die?"

The young man shook his head.

"Was it the first time you felt like it was your fault?" the man continued.

Now the boy hesitated but then shook his head again.

"Care to tell me what happened that other time?"

The boy hesitated again but then glanced up at him. "W- I came across a mugger. He was young, barely more than a kid, really. He was about to rob some old lady and I yelled out. He got scared and ran. Right into traffic. A truck… couldn't stop."

Slade, feeling it was time to show some support, put a hand on the boy's shoulder. That was all it was supposed to be, but suddenly the teen threw his arms around him and started to cry. The man smiled a bit sadly as he hugged the boy back and held him. He remembered breaking down like this as a young man himself, in the war. It wasn't a sign of weakness, it was just something that needed to happen… break down and move on.

As the sobs quieted down the man caressed the back of Robin's head and the teen lifted his gaze. Slade could see shame there, shame for showing weakness no doubt, but also gratefulness for not being pushed away. The boy sniffled and blinked, a last tear falling down his cheeks. A tongue swept quickly over his lips, wetting them, and then suddenly those lips was all Slade could focus on. His brain certainly wasn't engaged as he swooped down and kissed that mouth. The boy made a little surprised noise, his body stiffening and hands momentarily pushing away before suddenly pulling closer instead and body almost melting against his.

When they parted the teen's eyes were very large, but his wide pupils spoke of lust more than fear. There was such innocence there as well and Slade wanted to pick him up and carry him to the bedroom. He gained control of himself at the last second, however, and realized the truth.

"This was a mistake," he said.

Robin blinked and then seemed to come to his senses as well, pulling away. "Yeah," he agreed, not quite meeting the man's gaze. "Yeah." he repeated. "I… I need to clean up the kitchen."

"You do that. We'll go shooting after lunch, apart from cooking you have free time until then."

"Shooting? In the daytime?" Robin asked, used to their nighttime training at the range.

"I'm taking you out of the city for this one. It's time for the bigger guns," the man smirked at him.

* * *

Robin's heart was already thumping with excitement from that unexpected kiss, but he was surprised to feel yet another thrill when Slade mentioned shooting bigger guns. What was wrong with him, he should hate guns, despise them, like Bruce had… but he wasn't Bruce and he had enjoyed target practice immensely. So he gave the man a small grin and nodded. Once Slade was out of sight Robin all but leaned against the closest wall. The man had kissed him. _Kissed_ him! He had been surprised –to say the least– but it hadn't been unwelcomed, really… the situation was weird and though Robin was in awe of the man and had found him attractive, kissing had not been what he had wanted; comfort was. Oh, shit, had Slade misunderstood him? Robin froze at the thought. Had the man thought that Robin was… well… coming on to him? But who the hell comes on to someone by bursting out in tears?

At lunch Slade had something to say about the subject.

"Kissing you was on impulse," he said. "I use sex as a stress reducer, maybe that has something to do with it."

"Stress reducer?"

"Yes."

"So, like… if you're stressed you go fuck some guy?"

"Women, mostly, but yes."

"And that works?"

"Of course it does. Haven't you ever tried?"

"I… um… well, I could imagine, I mean… when you can't sleep it… well…"

The man chuckled. "Oh, that's precious."

Robin couldn't help but laugh through his embarrassment.

Then he found some extra courage somewhere. "I didn't mind, though…" he mumbled and gave the man a quick glance before staring down at his plate again.

"Well, that's good. If you ever have an itch, you know where to find me."

"I thought you said it was a mistake?"

"Yes, I didn't want you to get the wrong impression… but if you are fine with it…?"

"It won't complicate things?"

"Sex does that?" Slade asked in mock innocence.

Robin snorted with laughter again. "Well, so I've heard."

"They must be doing it wrong. Sex can just be sex. Ask a prostitute."

"If you say so," Robin shrugged.

"I do. Trust your master," Slade smirked at him, and the blush on the teen's cheeks came back a little.

Somehow Robin felt better after the chat however. He had more of an understanding of who Slade was and his point of view on those things, and it was a bit tantalizing. He was tempted to make a move just to see where it would lead, but he had a feeling that Slade wouldn't take him seriously if he just wanted to fool around a bit… he was sure the man would respect a no, but maybe, just maybe, find him childish if he stopped things half way through. And Robin didn't want to seem childish to Slade, quite the opposite.

An hour later he was on his stomach in warm, dry grass, watching a white metal cut out target, a human silhouette, through a pair of binoculars.

"In Afghanistan in November of 2009," Slade began the lecture, "a British soldier, Corporal of horse Craig Harrisson-"

"Corporal of horse?" Robin asked with a snort.

"That is a rank in the British Army's Household Cavalry. In our terms it would translate to sergeant." Slade's voice was dry like he was pointing out that this was no laughing matter.

"Ah, ok. Sorry." Robin still thought it sounded funny. What would be next? Colonel of ducks?

"As I was saying, Craig Harrisson took the lead in the official longest kill shots by killing a man two thousand four hundred and seventy five meters away."

"Wow."

"Wow indeed. I say _official_ longest kill shots, though, because… well…"

"Not to brag or anything?" Robin grinned at the man stretched out next to him.

"I'm much too humble," the man smirked back, making the teen laugh.

"So, are those targets as far away?" Robin nodded in the direction of the cut outs he couldn't see without the binoculars. "And was he using the same gun?"

"Those are only a kilometer away," Slade snorted. "You need to double the distance, but I thought we'd start slow."

It was Robin's turn to snort. He had a feeling that maybe one hundred meters or so was starting slow, but whatever.

"And no," Slade continued. "He used an Accuracy International L115A3 and, as you should know, we are using a McMillan Tac-50, but this gun was used by the men on the second and third place of that list. Canadian soldiers, also in Afghanistan, both in March 2002."

"Canadians?"

"Canadians are lethal, didn't you know?" Slade grinned at him again. "All that hockey and beer, I suspect."

"I'll try to remember that."

"You should. Now, what do you remember about this gun? Tell me."

Robin had gotten a pamphlet to read on the car ride up here, and searched his memory.

"It is the standard Long Range Sniper Weapon of the Canadian Army since… ummm…2000?"

"Correct."

"It's manually operated, rotary bolt-action. Designed for bipod only. Uuummm… oh, the stock is made of fiberglass!"

"And what ammo does it use?"

".50 BMG, we're using Hornady A-MAX .50."

"Good enough. Put your ear protectors on and then look at the target to the left."

The sound was quite loud even through the ear protectors and Robin saw how Slade, even with his size, was affected by the recoil. A split second later the target on the hill on the other side of the shallow valley sported a large hole in its head.

Robin was impressed. It must take a lot of practice to be that precise. He wondered how many times the man had had use for this skill… Robin knew, after the botched up mission, that the man was a killer and Slade had more or less admitted to sniping people as well, but he still couldn't help but be impressed. Just because the man killed didn't mean that Robin had to. If Slade suggested as much he'd just refuse.

"Your turn."

"Won't someone hear the shooting and come investigate?" Robin asked. They had passed a gate with a private property sign a while back, and he wondered if they were even supposed to be there."

"I know the land owner," Slade calmed him. "No one will ask questions here."

The man helped him into position and Robin tried to calm his breathing. He aimed, fired –the recoil slamming into his shoulder- and the target remained unscathed.

"I missed?" The teen sounded so incredulous that Slade laughed out loud.

"Yes. You are moving around too much. Don't fight the ground; it's supposed to support you. And hold your breath when you shoot, but not too long before. And I should mention… wind speed, air density, even the rotation of the earth makes a difference in really long range shooting. You'd also have a spotter to help you with the calculations. This is just for you to try out the gun and realize that it's not as easy as it looks. Sometimes the sniper can't even see the target, it's all calculated. We'll look at the math later. Try again."

And Robin did. And again, and again and-

"I'm giving up, can we move closer?" the teen grunted when his shoulder started to hurt.

"One more shot."

"I don't even know how you did that first shot!" the teen muttered.

"Experience. And I listen to the wind, look at the trees or grass or anything else that seems affected by it and I do the math. Like I said I don't expect you to know this yet."

"What do I get if I make it?" Robin snorted and settled down again.

"Well, what would you want? More gadgets?"

The teen hadn't exactly expected Slade to agree to anything and glanced sideways at him, trying to think of an appropriate reward. Then he smirked.

"I want another kiss," he stated, almost managing to keep the blush off his cheeks. It was a joke, but also a challenge. He wanted to show Slade how bold he could be. If it hadn't been for that blush it could have worked.

"Is that so? Interesting. Well, hit the mark then," the man chuckled.

Robin took a deep breath and settled once more. He had feared the big rifle at first. Its sound, the recoil, the very thing it represented, but now he almost felt molded to it, it fitted somehow. He breathed deeply a couple of times, put his eye to the sight, looked for signs of wind and adjusted his aim a little, finger on the trigger…

This time the human cut out suddenly sported a hole at its hip, on the very edge.

"YES!" Robin shouted, letting the gun go and rolling over on his back, pumping his fist in the air.

"It was an absolutely lousy shot," Slade told him truthfully.

"Yes, but I did it!" The teen felt slightly high on the rush. "Where's my reward?" he grinned.

"Right here." Slade was suddenly on top of him and the teen's breath hitched.

It was very different getting kissed when he was ready for it. The man's lips and, a little bit later, tongue, were demanding but the teen was eager to answer. What might have been intended as a quick teasing peck was still going on a few minutes later. Robin's arms were around the man's neck and, more importantly, his legs had locked around Slade's hips, their groins grinding together deliciously. In fact, Robin was getting more than just a little hot and bothered; he was getting real hard real fast. He made a needy noise, thrusting up against the man on top of him, and Slade grunted back in some sort of reply. What it meant wasn't clear but he must have understood the younger man's need for more as he increased the speed and the power of the thrusts. From there it didn't take that long for the former hero to climax in his jeans, something he a little later felt very embarrassed about. He hadn't meant for it to go that far and definitely not to get that aroused.

"I liked the way you cried out my name," the man told him with a chuckle as he rolled off him.

"I… I did?" Robin stammered, not quite recalling anything but bliss.

"Yup," the man reached down to his own groin and readjusted himself.

"Let me help you," Robin, who just had realized that Slade hadn't come and wasn't about to leave someone hanging, offered.

"You sure?"

"No, but I'll do what I can. I take instructions very well," the teen grinned, embarrassment replaced with a huge amount of foolhardy bravery.

"Adequately well at least," Slade concurred.

Robin snorted. He moved so he was level with the man's hips and started to unbutton the jeans. His hands were barely shaking at all.

The young man hadn't seen any real hard cocks in his life apart from his own and he couldn't help but let a quiet "Wow!" slip out as the man's member was revealed. "You're big!" Robin added as he carefully caressed the shaft.

"I also won't break," the man pointed out, a strong hint to get going.

Robin used his hand, sliding it up and down, watching the foreskin slide up and down covering and uncovering the pink wet glans.

"Any day now."

"Oh, sorry!" Robin worked faster, trying to mimic what felt good for him.

"Better," Slade told him with a pleased grunt. Robin grinned and went faster. Suddenly a hand in his hair pushed his head down. The teen was about to say that he wasn't quite sure he was ready to go that far, but as he did the head of the cock pushed in between his lips.

"Perfect," the man let him know, and then Robin didn't want to withdraw anymore.

He was clumsy at what he did but he learned well enough and quickly enough to satisfy the man, and suddenly his mouth was flooded with cum, making him splutter.

"Sorry, should have warned you." The man didn't sound sorry at all, and when Robin glared at him he smirked.

"Bastard." Robin had swallowed automatically and now felt a bit had.

"What was that, apprentice?"

"Um… I just said 'Master'?"

"You have a very strange accent," Slade grinned. "Let me get some of that for you."

Robin yelped as he was pulled up on top of the man and kissed again, Slade's tongue lapping at the drops that had spilled out in the corners of his mouth.

This time Robin pulled back when the tingles of excitement got a bit too insistent.

"You're right, we should go," Slade nodded. "Pack up the rifle, I want to see if you can," he said while making himself presentable.

Robin subtly adjusted himself, not exactly loving the wet sticky mess in his underwear which had now gone cold as well, but there was nothing to do about it until they got home.

"You need to work on doing that quicker," Slade told him as they put the things back in the car. They would go around to the other hill to take down the targets as well.

"I didn't know it was on time," Robin objected.

"Everything is," the man told him.

"Ah, so that's why you just wanted me to hurry to get you off?" the teen dared joke.

"I apologize for my lack of romance," the man deadpanned.

"No you don't, Sir."

"No, I don't. Practice setting up and disassemble the rifle for an hour tonight."

"Yes, Sir," Robin nodded, already wondering how fast he could go.

* * *

"DONE!"

At the boy's cry Slade stopped the timer and glanced down at his phone.

"Good job, new personal record," he declared. "Three, two one, go." He then went back to watching TV. He wanted to catch up on the news from a few different stations and Robin was busy on the floor with his new 'game' with the rifle. The stray was extremely competitive, even with himself, something Slade recognized and appreciated. Making things into competitions and games, with the young man blinded by the rush of it, was an interesting way to go about this. He already knew challenges worked, after all.

"DONE!"

Slade looked at his phone again. "Seems you are starting to level out. You have a good time there, though, that's enough for today."

"One more time?" Blue puppy dog eyes looked up at him and Slade snorted.

"Three, two one, go."

A moment later his phone rang. Slade recognized one of his client's number and took the call.

"Yes?"

"DONE!"

"Not now apprentice. Go on," he added to the caller. "I see. Yes, of course. Tonight. No problem. I'll call you when it's done." He stood and frowned at his phone for a moment, thinking. Then he felt the stray's eyes on him and returned his attention to the present.

"Put the rifle away by the stairs. I have a job to do. You're free for the night but I want you to stay put, understood?"

"What kind of job?"

"Out of your league, kid," the man smirked.

"When will you be back?"

"Late. Make something for dinner, that way you can practice cooking without me having to suffer and then you can always read up on sniper rifles, you should know where the books are."

"Can I go for a run?"

Slade didn't know when he would return and didn't want the teen to spot Deathstroke running over the rooftops so he shook his head.

"Stay here like I said. We'll go running tomorrow morning."

The teen looked a bit disgruntled but nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

Slade went to change into some anonymous dark clothes and then left, climbing the building and gearing up on the top floor before leaving. The man who he had warned through the note Robin had delivered had not performed satisfactory according to his client, and his client only gave one warning. Now it was time to teach the man a lesson… of the more permanent kind.

The job was easy. He had had to wait for about two hours for the man to come home, but the guy had some decent literature to browse. After that it was quick, his target never even knew he was there.

Now he was heading back, rather enjoying the night air and-

"STOP!"

What the actual hell? Slade turned around, not quite believing his ears, but then his eye agreed with them. Robin. He very, very nearly slipped up and scolded the boy but remembered himself at the last moment.

"Look at that. Robin again? And you've gotten an upgrade?" Just like last time he made his voice even darker than his mask already did, not wanting to give his identity away.

"What are you up to, Deathstroke? Why are you still in Gotham?"

"Working on a project. But I'm done for tonight, so if you would step aside?"

"I'll stop you!" the teen growled.

Slade snorted. "Robin, do you even know what it takes to stop me? You'd have to kill me. Your daddy wouldn't go that far and I very much doubt you- OUF!" The little brat had kicked him in the chest! Once more he had managed to underestimate how quick he was. Slade grinned behind his mask, strangely proud. Yes, the boy was stupid for standing up to him, but he could admire his guts at the same time. And it had been a good kick. They had worked on perfecting it just the other day.

Slade consciously moved into his real pattern of fighting and not the different one he used when training the boy. He focused on taking him down, again and again, and again. The teen hit the ground over and over again, not really injured, just humiliated.

"Are you even trying?" Slade taunted him. He could tell Robin was, and the boy did better than last time, but he just wasn't quite there yet. The boy attacked once more, a guttural growl on his lips, and the next moment he sank to his knees, clutching his stomach after Slade's punch.

"Are _you_ even trying?" he gasped, rolling away. "You're barely touching me."

Slade shrugged, he couldn't really argue with that. "I'm intrigued," he claimed. "Where did you get your gear? Found a new sugar daddy?" It was only because of the light from a sign on the next roof that Slade could see the blush, but it was satisfying.

"I've found a master!" the teen growled.

Slade was surprised by the admittance and to hear the boy refer to him as his master to what he thought was an enemy was… exhilarating. He didn't know why that was, but it pleased him immensely.

"Is that so? Lucky bastard. You're a pretty boy. Maybe I should take you on myself."

"In your fucking dreams, Deathstroke!" the teen hissed, blush deepening.

"It would be, yes," the man purred. "But now I don't have time to play with you anymore. Are you going to try to really fight me or should I finish this?" He saw the boy hesitate, but his pride got the better of him and he attacked again.

Slade took him down harder this time and kneeled beside him with one knee on the boy's chest and a hand around his throat. The boy struggled until Slade pulled out a big vicious looking knife. Then he froze, his eyes wide behind the mask.

"This is goodbye, little Robin. You don't belong to this world anymore. You simply don't have the right instincts. You kill or you'll be killed, boy… let this be a lesson for your next life." Slade shifted, apparently so he could stab the boy in the chest, but was deliberately clumsy when he did so, opening himself up for a kick to the head. It came and the man pretended to be more affected by it than he was, stumbling back, giving the teen the seconds he needed to run. And this time, the boy was clever enough to do so.

Slade watched him go and gave him some time so the stray would find his way back before he did. Then he headed home himself, still taking his time. He entered through the roof, changed, put his fake eye back in, climbed back out and down and then went to a round the clock convenience store close by, picked up some milk and bread and went home.

When he entered the house it was dark and quiet. He put the groceries away and on the way to his bedroom he checked in on the boy. He was curled up under his covers, pretending to sleep judging by the breathing. Slade moved on, undressed and got into his own bed. He checked the time and decided how many hours he wanted to sleep before drifting off.

Robin was rather quiet at the breakfast table. They had come back from an hour long run and Slade only noticed the slightly stiffer moments the boy's bruises gave him because he knew what to look for, which was good.

"Moping because I wouldn't let you go out last night?" Slade asked him.

The teen jumped a little and looked guilty. Oh, dear he was easy to read… Slade almost pitied him. Almost. He had no way of punishing the boy for disobeying him, but he figured Robin had been taught a valuable lesson nonetheless.

"What? No! No, I just… do you feel that it's ever right to kill someone?"

"Sure."

"That was a quick answer," Robin grunted.

"Is it ever right to let someone kill you?" Slade asked.

The teen paled a bit. "Well… I mean… no, but…"

"So if you are fighting for your life, isn't it easy to endorse killing?"

The teen looked down into his porridge, stirring it absentmindedly with his spoon. "Maybe," he reluctantly admitted.

"The world today is different," Slade told him, dangerously close to what he had said to the boy as Deathstroke. "It's harsher. There are bands of ten year olds out there that would literally tear you apart for fun. Very few people would hesitate to kill you just because you're young. Don't let that surprise you, be ready to strike back when needed."

The boy looked hesitant but then gave a curt nod and a shrug. It wasn't exactly the commitment Slade was looking for but it was good enough at this point.

* * *

Robin had a lot to think about. Last night he was sure he was about to die when Deathstroke had underestimated him, which had given him the chance to escape that he so desperately needed. But it had been close… and he had been holding back. Not a lot, he had kicked and punched harder than he would have with a normal opponent, but they're had still been some openings to do more serious harm which he hadn't taken… because it was risky. Because it might have killed. And he was almost killed himself because of it. That wasn't really clever, was it? What did the moral high ground matter when you were dead?

He shook the dark thoughts out of his head for now.

"So, Master, what's on the schedule today?" he asked.

"I think you need some real practice. Clean up while I make some phone calls and then we'll go out for a little walk."

"Why doesn't that sound nice?" Robin drawled, only getting a smirk in reply.

* * *

Slade made sure his client had paid what was owed him and then set up another advert on the deep web stating, to those who knew how to find and read it, that he was available for another job in Gotham. He was only going to take one or two more jobs here before taking his apprentice with him, but he knew that by then Robin needed to know his real identity, which might not sit well with the boy. Slade was sure that as long as he controlled the when and how he'd be able to keep the stray on the leash, however.

* * *

Robin looked around, tense.

"This isn't a good neighborhood to take a walk in," he told the man.

"It's morning and I need to talk to someone on the other side of this block. Not going to go around it just because a place has a bad reputation," the man told him.

Robin wanted to object. He knew this city better than his master, after all, and this wasn't only gang turf, it was right on the border between two of the currently most violent gangs in Gotham. People were twitchy here, and didn't like to see strangers.

They were both in civilian clothes, although Slade had insisted on Robin taking a gun with him as 'backup security'.

This area was a maze of narrow backstreets, alleys and walkways, most of them not even wide enough for a car. The smell of garbage and human urine was strong in the air, and the heat of the day hadn't started to seep down here yet, making the air colder than it should be. Robin let his eyes dart this way and that, looking for movements. He didn't like being down here on the ground. Up on the roofs was safer and gave him a better view of things. Slade just walked on confidently like he was taking a stroll in a park. Robin couldn't help but feel that his master was rather naïve.

A whistle echoed in the alley they were currently in.

"Trouble!" Robin hissed.

"I heard." Slade was suddenly more on his guard, but he continued walking.

Someone crossed their path a little ahead, running. A rustle further down behind them.

Then, around a corner up ahead, as per accident, a group of eight young men ambled out, slouching, looking uninterested and rather lethargic. Robin knew it was a show. These people were dangerous.

"Master," he all but mouthed, just to make sure Slade was aware of the danger as well.

"Remember that you're armed. Don't let any of them run or we'll have more on our backs in a moment." The man's voice was low so the young men ahead wouldn't hear. The teen gave a short nod back.

"What do we have here? Tourists?" a guy with an ugly scar on his cheek drawled in a weirdly high pitched voice.

"That's right, and we're a little bit lost, would you mind showing us the way?" Slade asked jovially.

"Sure can, sure can," the thug smiled unpleasantly while his minions spread out all around them. "Will cost you, though."

"Well, that's not very friendly, is it?" If the situation hadn't been so serious Robin would have snorted with laughter at the man's slightly affronted tone. He really sounded like a father scolding an unruly child. There were several clicks heard all around then, the sound of switchblades.

"Get them!" The thugs screeched out his battle cry and Robin's foot shot out, catching one of the attackers in the head. The guy crumpled, but there were more of them. The teen took his master's words to heart and even after breaking a guy's arm he elbowed him in the neck to make sure he didn't run off. After three opponents had crumpled to the ground Robin looked up to see how Slade was doing. The teen gaped as he saw that the man he knew was a killing machine was occupied with the equivalent of shrugging attackers off him and sending them Robin's way instead.

"Ow!" a knife slashed out at Robin's arm from behind and managed to knick it.

"Focus, apprentice," Slade told him as the teen spun around to dispose of the threat.

"I was just confused about my suddenly useless master," Robin huffed.

"You're the one that needs the practice. Hurry up now or more are going to come. Even untrained monkeys like these will eventually wear you down."

Robin thought his master was a bit unfair. Sure, these guys weren't trained in any martial arts but they knew their way around a dirty knife fight. Soon there was just one left, though, the leader of the pack. He didn't look that confident anymore. Robin saw him reach for something inside his jacket and had a fraction of a second to decide. He was too far away to reach him, had nothing to throw… only one option left. He drew his gun and fired.

"AAAERGH!" the man clutched his arm and the gun he had tried to draw fell from fingers he could no longer move. Robin quickly ran up and snatched the gun from the ground.

"Maybe leave tourists alone for a while, huh?" he said.

The thug wasn't quite out for the count, however. He roared and threw himself forwards, trying to barge into the teen shoulder first. Robin jumped to the side and the man lost control and half fell, half ran into a wall instead. There he crumpled down and remained.

"Shall we go, then?" Slade asked. He had been leaning against the wall waiting for the teen to finish up.

"What about his arm, he's bleeding?" Robin pointed out.

"His other goons will be here shortly, faster now because of the gun shot. Or would you like to stay and explain things…?"

"No, ok, let's go," the teen decided.

 _To be Continued…_

A/N: Slade has the right idea, letting the apprentice to the work... like he says, Robin is the one that needs the practice… ;)


	5. Chapter 5: Top Dog

A/N: can't believe it's Friday again. There might be an update in the drabble collection later this weekend, by the way, I had a plot bunny bite me the night before last and spent yesterday writing most of the story… it's just a funny/silly one, a bit hurt/comfort so nothing to get too excited about, but hey, it's something… ;)

 **Chapter 5: Top Dog**

A little while later Robin was staring at a closed office door and tried not to feel guilty. It might just as easily have been a bird-a-rang! He had taken lots of people down with those. Why did he feel bad because it was a gun? That wasn't very logical. Sure, the throwing knives took skill and anyone could pull a trigger, but now that he was learning to shoot he knew that actually hitting the target with a bullet where he intended to required some expertise as well.

He sighed and looked around. He was in a narrow, dusty corridor behind a dry-cleaners store and he hadn't been allowed in. Robin knew his Master didn't trust him or wanted him involved in everything and part of him was grateful for that. Another part felt a bit left out and wanted to prove itself.

The meeting didn't take that long and on their way back –which wasn't the same way they got there− they bought some raw chicken for lunch, which Robin was ordered to cook when they got home. He followed the recipe closely this time as he didn't want to give Slade or himself food poisoning. Slade was off doing whatever he did while Robin was stuck in the kitchen and when the man returned he was carrying his laptop and looked serious. Very serious. The teen swallowed thinking that the man somehow had found out that he had snuck out last night.

"Robin, come here." The order came as the man put the laptop on the kitchen table.

The teen had a million excuses flitting through his mind as he edged closer.

"I just got a job and I'm involving you full time for this one," the man told him and the young hero relaxed.

"Oh? What kind of job?"

"Kidnapping."

"We're… um… we're kidnapping someone?" It wasn't really something he wanted to be involved in but it was better than murder, he guessed.

Slade chuckled. "No, we're rescuing someone."

"Oh! Oh, that's great!" The teen brightened up immediately. "Who, where, when?"

"Not 'why' too?"

"I assume the 'why' equals money," Robin drawled.

"Good, you're learning," the man smirked. "There's something I want you to see."

"Lunch is ready, though, are we going to eat first?"

"Trust me, you want to watch first."

So they did.

It was a video shot by someone with a head cam. There was audio too. The video showed a barren looking room with a small boy, around five or so, sitting tied to a chair. The boy was wide eyed but quiet and when the man spoke it wasn't to him but, it seemed, to someone on the phone.

"Do you have the money?" he asked. There was a pause as the person on the other end spoke. "You are getting this transmission aren't you?" the man asked. "See your little boy? He'll be dead in one minute if the transaction doesn't come through." There was another pause and then a hand with a gun came into view, the weapon aimed at the boy. "You had time. Do you have the money or not?" Silence again. "Then the deal is off." The gun was raised a little higher and-

"NO!" Robin cried out as the shot was fired, point blank, into the little boy's head. The teen was throwing up in the sink the moment later.

"Told you you didn't want to eat first," Slade said as he closed the laptop with a cold expression on his face. Robin now knew why the man had looked that angry; this has gotten to him too.

"Who…who is that bastard!?" Robin asked as he was spitting and rinsing his mouth.

"His name is Ivar Ares, I know that much. He has kidnapped four children in the Gotham area the last three months. Two has been killed, two returned for ransom. The one we saw he killed when the parents couldn't come up with the ransom money fast enough, the other one because the parents involved the police. He likes to broadcast what he does online. And now he has a fifth kid, a six year old girl named Clara Santal. Want to help me find and stop him?"

"Hell fucking yes!" Robin snarled. "What's the time line?"

"Tight. About twelve hours. Midnight tonight."

"Then let's go!"

"No, let's eat. We'll need the energy, and I can tell you what I know about this man in the meanwhile. Profiling him will be key to finding him. That and his broadcasts."

"Fine," Robin threw the food on the table in a fashion Slade probably would have scolded him for normally, but time was of the essence. "Spill!" he said as he sat down. His appetite was nowhere to be found but he knew Slade wouldn't let him leave the table without eating so he pushed the nausea from the images aside and stubbornly dug in.

"I've dug around and he's a travelling act. Done the same things in at least four other cities and always leaves when people are starting to notice. He always sends the parents videos of him killing kids to make sure they do their best to pay and not tell the police and that mostly works, it seems. He leaves the kids, dead or alive, where they are and tells the parents the address. He always uses abandoned or near abandoned buildings. In two cases the rooftops of ones, even."

"How do you know his name?"

"I recognize the voice." Slade looked like he wanted to kill something and Robin was glad he was on the other side of the table. "I served with him on a mercenary mission 4 years ago. We were in- Well, that doesn't matter. Let's just say the village we had to pass through had less children when we left. When we found out we sent him off. I should have shot him then and there."

"So he… targets kids?"

"Yes. That's the problem. He loves killing, especially children, so this is a win-win situation for him. He either gets money or he gets to kill. He's happy either way."

"He's probably not using his real name anymore, is he?" Robin asked, thinking of ways to track him down.

"No, although he's arrogant enough, so I wouldn't be completely surprised. Then again, he was probably not using his real name when he signed up with us either." Slade was putting food on his own plate and then started eating as well.

Robin thought things through, trying to come up with strategies.

"Is there some way to track the transmissions?"

"Only the final one is live and it's so short it would be long over before you got there."

"But there are recordings of the current girl?"

"Yes. Four." Slade opened the laptop again and found a folder with the video files. "Watch them. Carefully. We have to analyze every detail to even have a chance, but you know this city better than I do. Time to really be the Boy Wonder, kid."

"Yes Sir," Robin said tensely as he was already watching the first clip. After just a few seconds he paused and went to the counter to pick up a pen and a notepad. He started scribbling, and then continued as he watched through all four clips.

"He never moves the victims to new places, right"? Robin asked.

"No, not so far."

"And how long does he keep them for?"

"Seldom more than forty eight hours. He ties them up and that's it. Doesn't even seem to give them food or water."

"Fucking animal," Robin growled.

"Don't insult animals," Slade retorted with a thin smirk. "What did you see? Let's compare notes so to speak."

"The window or windows are facing east or north-east, providing the time stamps are correct."

"I believe they are, he most likely left those in to make sure the parents knew when the recordings took place. A proof of life thing."

"Good. The light here at eight in the morning seems to correspond well, and it's strong so I don't think this is a low level apartment. Probably facing the sea."

"Agreed," Slade nodded. "In the third one you get a glimpse out a window, does that tell you anything?"

Robin found the moment, only a second when the man turned his head, and paused it.

"Seems empty out there, as I- Wait… are those antennas? Masts? It's very blurry."

"Recognize them?"

"The roofs are pretty much packed with them, but three ones that close is something to look out for at least."

"Good. What does the interior tell you?"

"Well, it's stripped bare and he really mostly focuses on the kid…"

"Yes. However, I thought things looked too clean. And the buckets in the corner…"

"Paint buckets!" Robin exclaimed. "New build? Not moved into yet? It's the weekend, the workers might be off?"

"Possibly."

"Can we go now, then? Please?" Robin begged.

The man chuckled. "Go get changed, fully armed."

"Yes Sir!" The teen flew from his seat while Slade, slightly more collected, finished his meal and went to change himself.

Running over the rooftops in the daytime was a bit unusual and there was a bigger risk for the authorities and even civilians to see them and butt in, but they had no choice if they wanted to find the building in time. Slade was carrying quite a lot of gear, it looked like, but it didn't seem to slow the man down one bit.

"Can we even be sure it's in Gotham?" Robin asked pessimistically when he scanned the buildings at the sea front.

"The girl's parents live in the building over there," Slade said and pointed. "And according to Ivar's MO he doesn't take his victims far if he can help it. I think he actually finds a place to keep them first and then decides who to kidnap."

"Okay, that's good at least. So… there has to be over a hundred potential buildings just in this small area… where do we start?"

"You go that way, I go this way. Look for buildings that match what we have so far. Remember signs of building, like adverts, building sites. Look for buildings that look at least mostly empty."

"Yes Master," Robin nodded and set off.

Hours later he had nothing certain to go on. He had written down some potential places, but that was all. Why did the city need to be this big? And why had they built houses on every available plot down here? Well, Robin knew why, of course; the ocean view. Something people were very willing to pay for, so all the houses seemed to be fighting for a glimpse of it.

But no new builds.

* * *

Slade didn't like to take things personally, but this time he did. He had been very close to shooting the sick bastard back then, and now he would make damn sure he didn't hurt any more kids. He hoped to save this particular child, of course, but even if they ran out of time he wouldn't rest until the slime was dead. He was glad the parents had had the right connections to ask for his help or he might never have found out.

There were many buildings, though, and he felt the same kind of hopelessness Robin did, especially as time went on. After two hours he decided it was time to meet up.

* * *

Robin flinched when he heard the low bussing from his belt, not realizing at first that it was the phone Slade had given him. He quickly answered. His master gave him the address of the building he was currently on.

"Get over here and let's discuss what to do next," the man said.

Something about the slightly tinny voice rang one of those bells with the teen again, but he shrugged it off. No time to dwell on those things.

"Found anything?" Robin asked, slightly out of breath from rushing over.

"Not for sure. You?"

"No. I have some candidates, though… what do we do now?"

"Here," Slade handed him a small lap top that the teen didn't recognize. "Check the addresses of all your candidates, see what you can find. Are any of them on the market or about to go on the market? Any building permits or contracts? Any pictures from inside?" The man then took out his own laptop. "I'll do the same with mine. Then let's watch the videos again and look around. We might spot something. Any luck with the antennas?"

Robin gestured around them. The roofs were covered with the things. "At least we know it can't be a house at the very water front, there are lower ones in front of it," he said and scanned the city. "Well, that actually brings my candidates down by one."

"Good. Every little things helps," Slade nodded.

They spent several hours on research and the afternoon turned into early evening.

"So we have ten buildings, that's good!" Robin exclaimed.

"We're idiots," Slade, who was watching the videos, suddenly realized.

"Um… thanks? Why?"

"We can see the window in the video. Well, part of it."

"Yes? OH, SHIT! Of course! It's not floor to ceiling, it's a narrow window! It's most likely an older building!"

"Four buildings left." Slade crossed out the other addresses from a list he was putting together. "And all of them are being renovated."

"Should we check them out together or split up again?" Robin asked.

"I think we have time to do it together, besides, I know what the man looks like," Slade said and handed Robin an energy bar and a small bottle of water from his back pack.

"What are we going to do when we find him?" Robin asked. "Bust inside?"

"He'll paranoid enough to shoot the kid at any unfamiliar sound," Slade said. "I plan to take care of this with the McMillan. Will your morals be a problem here?"

Robin swallowed but then shook his head. "You take that fucker down," he growled. After what he had seen, that monster didn't deserve to live or even get a trial. He thought even Bruce might agree with him on that and if not…? Screw it, the man hadn't seen what he had.

"Yes, sir," Slade chuckled.

Robin gave him a quick grin back and then swallowed the last of the water.

"Should we…?" he asked.

"Yes, let's do the closest building first," Slade told him.

A little later they both shook their heads at the same time.

"Not empty enough." Slade said.

"No masts that seem to match," Robin added.

"Let's move on."

At the third building they struck gold, although it took a while for Robin to see it through his binoculars.

"A girl! There's a girl inside that room! Fourth window down, three from the left."

"I see her," Slade said a moment later. "That's Clara, alright. She's on a chair."

"How come the idiot put her that close to the window?" Robin snorted.

"He's an exhibitionist; he likes the risk of being seen. Remember that he placed two cases on a roof? And his videos too… he likes the risk but he knows he is pretty much safe; the chance of anyone seeing the girl and connecting her to an ongoing crime is slim to say the least."

"Well, he's out of luck now," Robin growled.

Slade nodded. "We need to find a good place to do this from," he said, scanning the nearest buildings. "That roof over there," he nodded.

They headed over and Slade approved of the spot. The angle was still slightly upwards and not ideal, but there were no taller buildings at a better angle.

"I could climb down the side of the house, shoot him from right outside his window," Slade mused and then checked his watch. "But it's running late."

"Better not risk it, then," Robin said. "Should I set things up?" At Slade's nod the teen got to work and was soon done. He laid down to check the sight and saw the scared and tired looking girl in full detail. No one else seemed to be in the room, though, and he couldn't see movement in any of the other windows either.

"There," he said and got up.

Slade took position instead and grunted. "This angle is bad. Works for you because you're smaller."

"Sorry," Robin hurriedly said, but Slade waved his apology away.

"You didn't build this house one story too short," he snorted and adjusted the stand, but even that didn't seem to work. "Do we have anything to set the bipod on?"

They searched but there was nothing.

"If I get on all fours?" Robin suggested.

"No time for sex now," Slade smirked at him and then shook his head. "Too unstable, but good thinking nonetheless."

Robin checked the time. "We only have ten minutes, what the hell do we do?!"

"No choice, I'll take the shot even if it's not optimal. Let's just hope he follows his normal routine and stands in front of the child."

Robin nodded and watched the man get down again. He could see that, as Slade needed to aim just slightly upwards there was little room for his bulk no matter how much he flattened himself against the ground. It took a second for the boy to make a decision.

"Wait, Slade. I'll do it."

"No, you won't," the man replied. "But thank you for offering."

"Your aim will be off when you have to lie like that, I have to!" the teen insisted.

"You're not a killer, you said so yourself. And you can't afford to hesitate or miss or the girl is dead."

"The shot isn't far, it's an easy one."

"The target is meat and blood."

"I know, but-" Robin drew a deep breath, almost a sob. He had never expected that he would one day try to win an argument where the prize was killing a man. "This is for the girl. I can do it."

A moment's hesitation, but then Slade nodded once and Robin hurriedly got into position.

"Too dark to make anything out now, the moon is gone," he said a moment later.

"Ivar will light up the room for filming. There!" Slade said just as the room got much brighter. "Builder's lamps, it seems, plenty of light."

"I see him, but he keeps moving around," Robin said tensely.

"He's setting things up. Wait until he starts filming, but once you do you only have a few minutes."

"Have they paid the ransom?"

"No, they paid me instead."

"Fuck." Robin had hoped the man wouldn't get ready to slaughter the little girl, but it seems he was out of luck there.

"If you want to change your mind now is your last chance," Slade growled. "There. He's in position."

Robin steadied his breathing and took aim. Whether this was morally wrong or not was rather far from his mind. He knew it was the right thing to do. He squeezed the trigger and the next moment the world was just a little bit safer.

"Pack up, let's go!" Slade ordered as he pulled out his phone. He gave someone on the other end the address of the house and by the time he was done so was Robin.

Once home they ate in silence. Robin felt strangely detached from it all and was grateful that Slade, who was on his phone, didn't push him.

"Look at that, someone broke the record," the man suddenly said.

"What?"

"The sniper record. It's three thousand five hundred and forty meters now. Over one kilometer longer than the last record. Impressive." The man seemed to be a bit reluctant to add the last part.

"Wow. What gun?" Robin asked.

Slade looked up at him with a rather amused look on his face. "Our good old McMillan," he answered. "And the shooter was-"

"Let me guess? Canadian?"

"That's right. Lethal buggers. No name released, though. Pity, I'd like to meet him or her."

"Where was it?"

"Iraq."

"Huh. So… is your record beaten?"

"It is," Slade admitted. "Guess I have some practicing to do." He fiddled with his phone for a second longer and then turned the screen towards Robin. "And look at this."

It was a picture of a man and a woman cradling the girl whose face Robin would never be able to forget. All three of them seemed to be smiling and crying at the same time. Tears welled up and the teens' eyes and he could just quickly nod before looking down into his plate again, not wanting Slade to see that he was on the verge of crying.

"We did good," the man told him almost softly and Robin nodded quickly again. "I think we deserve a day off tomorrow, don't you?"

"Hell yeah. And pizza."

"Possibly," Slade chuckled. "Go to sleep now, I'll let you sleep in if you want to."

* * *

Slade knew the kid was in turmoil and didn't blame him. The first kill was always emotional, but the boy had offered, which was good. He hadn't planned this; all he had wanted was for Robin to find himself in a situation where he condoned the killing of another human being. That he would take the shot himself was an unexpected bonus and it looked like the gods were smiling at him right now. His apprentice was coming along fine, though there was still a lot of work to do.

The boy went off to shower and change for bed and Slade decided to do the same. The new sum of money in his account felt nice, but it couldn't quite compete with the feeling of stopping Ivar. This time he wished he had had the opportunity to do it himself, though, and face to face. He had wanted to tie the man to a chair for forty eight hours too, but- Slade took a deep breath. Thoughts like that, especially of revenge, were dangerous and led nowhere, really. The man was gone, the job was done. Still, he had trouble falling asleep and had been reading for over an hour when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Slade called after making sure he hadn't taken his eye out.

The boy shuffled in and up to his bed like a small child who was about to either ask for something big or confess something bigger.

"I… can't sleep," the boy admitted.

"And here I thought you were sleepwalking," the man tried to joke, but the young man still looked rather miserable. "Lots on your mind?" the man added.

"I did the right thing, right? Tell me I did the right thing?"

Slade sighed quietly, put the book down and opened his arms. The boy flew into them so hard that he knocked some of the air out of the man.

He expected the stray to start crying, but the boy mostly clung really hard to him and breathed harshly, just on the verge of sobbing. Slade closed his arms around him and just held him for a while. He'd rather not be in this situation simply because he didn't want the boy to assign him some type of father role. If he was to become anything more than a master to the Boy Wonder, he didn't want it to be father, far from it. The feelings he had towards the young man didn't match that at all. Especially when Robin was only wearing a pair of thin sleeping pants, his naked chest pressed against Slade's own, and the young man's skin smelling heavenly as well.

"Slade…?"

"Yes?"

"I think I need some of that stress reducer."

Maybe, Slade pondered, the teen wasn't at risk as seeing him as a father figure after all.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Today has already been a lot for you. Now, I can give you a hand job if-"

"I want you to fuck me."

Well, at least that was clear enough, Slade figured. He could ask again, make sure, or he could give the kid what he wanted or refused like a dad would… but… he wasn't the dad here.

"Then you'd better get me hard, kid," he said, and heard a little chuckle from the boy. The tension seemed to seep out of the young. lean body in his arms as he shuffled down so he was straddling Slade's lower legs instead of his lap. Eager fingers dug into the waistband of the man's sleeping pants.

To be fair, the boy didn't have to work that hard. Slade freely admitted that he was rather easy in that way, especially when he _wanted_ to get hard. He lived a dangerous tough life and when an opportunity to have sex came about he usually wanted to take it.

"Mm… that's nice," he let the kid know. When someone used their mouth like that, it was only polite to show appreciation, and his apprentice learned these skills quickly too, it seemed. The boy grinned up at him and Slade raised his hips a little. "Did I say you could stop?" he asked, only half joking.

"But you're hard and I want you inside of me." The Boy Wonder _actually_ used puppy dog eyes when he said that, which was surprisingly enough a turn on.

"Lube's in the drawer," Slade said and gestured towards a bedside table as he straightened up a bit in bed. He wasn't going to be a bastard about this, he'd try to make the teen as comfortable as possible. "Come up here," he said and patted his lap as Robin, finally properly blushing now, handed the lube over. Slade was glad to see that the teen was hard and dripping, or he would have called this thing off. Probably.

As the boy straddled him the man caressed the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss. He had already coated his fingers on his other hand with a generous amount of lube and quickly found the boy's opening. Hoping the kissing would work as a bit of a distraction, he pushed a finger inside. The teen gasped into the kiss, but didn't pull away, quite the opposite. Soon the man had two fingers inside and there seemed to be room for a third. Some lube had run down his fingers into the palm of his hand, and he used that to lube his cock up. The little hero was ready, he decided, and rearranged the boy so he could place the tip of his cock at his opening.

* * *

Robin felt the pressure and liked it. He had been tossing and turning trying to get to sleep, but he was too flooded with adrenaline and memories that he just couldn't. That's when he had gotten the idea of taking Slade up on his offer on stress release, and once that thought had planted itself in his head it wouldn't go away.

He moaned as he pushed back, feeling himself yielding to the girth until the head popped inside him and he sank down on the shaft with no resistance. Slade grunted just as Robin realized that he was biting the man's shoulder. He let go and kissed the spot as an apology as he got more used to the length inside of him.

The man took over and started to guide him up and down, the slight heat from the friction creating millions of tingling sensations shooting up his spine. It was good, but he wanted more. He wasn't quite sure how to communicate that to Slade, though, as he was way past remembering how to us his words. A whine seemed to clue the man in, however, and he appeared to have been thinking the same things.

"Need to fuck you properly," he said, and, without withdrawing, rolled them over.

Having the man on top of him was even more thrilling and now Slade could go as deep and fast as he wanted to, something he of course took advantage of, making Robin gasp and then cry out in pleasure.

It was thrilling not to be in control, not to be able to set your own pace, decide when it was time to climb towards the peak. Instead it was Slade that decided all that and the man was relentless, pushing the teen on until he was at his limit.

"Gonna… god… I'm… I'm…!" Robin exclaimed as the pleasure washed over him. The man followed suit with a grunt, and then they were both just panting, trying to catch their breaths. Robin felt the man's length slide out of him, which sparked some new interest deep inside him, but he was now, finally, tired. The man rolled off him and they got a bit more comfortable.

"Going back to your room?" the man muttered, seemingly half asleep.

"Nope," Robin replied, in the same state.

"Suit yourself," came a mumbled reply and then the man's breathing deepened. Robin barely heard the words as he was falling asleep as well.

 _To be Continued…_

A/N: and now I have to go to the vet to buy food for one of my cats… CU next week! (well apart from that drabble I mentioned in the beginning).


	6. Chapter 6: That Dog Won't Hunt

**A/N:** here we are, the last chapter! I'm working on a drabble as well, but after that it will probably be a bit quiet from me for a while as my new job and university will start up soon. Plot bunnies are always appreciated, though! My new drabble is actually based on a plot bunny I recently got, so sometimes it pays off… ;)

 **Chapter 6: That Dog Won't Hunt**

Robin slept the sleep of the deeply satisfied and was somewhat startled when he woke on his side from something pushing into him.

"Uhh! Wha…?" he mumbled.

"Stay in my bed and you have to pay bed taxes," a refreshed and amused sounding Slade said in his ear.

"Ahh… ngh…" was the teen's only reply. He was hard and, though also a bit sore, the slight pain was turning him on more than off. Robin felt Slade lift his leg to get better access and the fucking really got started.

They both came quickly without much finesse; right then the end result was more important than how they got there, and Robin almost dozed off again before he was woken with a slap on his ass.

"Get up and make breakfast," he was told.

"Or what?" the teen piped up.

"Or more bed taxes."

Robin knew when he had had enough and grudgingly got out of the warm bed.

"After we're eaten you will change and wash the sheets," he was further instructed.

"May I take a shower first, Master?" Robin asked, which was how they both ended up in a shower together, using their hands to help each other out in several different ways.

Robin was whistling and humming to himself as he boiled some eggs and stirred the porridge for breakfast. Slade generally believed in healthy breakfasts so nothing fried apart from once in a while. Robin had convinced him to get some orange juice however. Unnecessary sugar, but the teen claimed he needed it much more than coffee. Right now he felt great. The memories were still there and he'd have to live with them for the rest of his life, but super exposed on top of them was the picture of the happy, grateful family, and that really made it all worth it to him.

"Not burned this time, huh?" Slade commented as he glanced into the porridge pot. "Doing better there."

"Thanks," Robin grinned. "I know."

"The eggs are getting hard boiled, though," the man pointed out.

"Crap!" Robin swore as Slade just chuckled. "Just face it, Master, cooking will never be my thing."

"I'm starting to think that, yes, but practice makes perfect," the man insisted. "So, do you want to do something special today or do you plan on taking off on your own?"

Robin blinked. He was used to being highly independent and had missed being on his own a bit after Slade took him in, but right now being alone didn't have the same appeal.

"If you want to do something, I'm game…?" he asked carefully, not wanting to be in the way if the man wanted some alone-time.

"How about something silly?" Slade asked.

"Sure, what?"

"I know someone who runs a paintball-joint just outside the city and-"

"YES!"

"Well, glad you like it. These people take things quite seriously, though, and they have a lot of land… I'll call ahead to see if anything's available, alright?"

"Sure," Robin beamed.

He did the dishes and put things away while the man was on the phone.

"They were closed today," Slade started as he hung up.

"Aw!" Robin exclaimed, actually disappointed.

"Don't fret, he decided it was a fun idea to throw some friends together for a no-rules game, and that suits us better than playing with civilians, doesn't it?"

"I guess…?" Robin said carefully. "No rules, though? Like at all?"

"There needs to be some to make it a game I guess, but I'm sure all will be explained when we get there," the man grinned. "Ready to go?"

"Just gonna hit the bathroom," Robin announced and did so. While sitting in there he found that he was pleasantly surprised that their night, and morning, together hadn't really changed anything. It wasn't weird. They weren't 'together', of course, Slade was still the boss and Robin was content with that, but it also wasn't tense and such. The teen winced a little bit. Well, there were _some_ signs of their activities, but he could live with that.

"So, listen up!" The man talking screamed 'ex military', he was on the shorter side, balding and was starting to get just a little bit of a gut. He was standing in front of the group of at least thirty people, a few of them women, who he had apparently rounded up to be in this game. They all looked excited to be there and grinned at each other. The excitement rubbed off on Robin who had problems standing still. "You have all been fitted with protective gear," the man continued. "Masks and padded chest protectors that is, no more no less. Still, shooting someone in the jewels is, literally, a dick move, ok? Not that it's against the rules…" There were chuckles all around. "This is a last man standing scenario, but played in teams. Team A and Team B. Wilson, Robin, you're on team A."

"Great, who else is with us?" Robin asked, looked around.

"Sorry, I should be clearer. You _are_ team A. You get a ten minute head start and then I'll send the wolves here out after you. Team B, you decide how you're going to do this. No one allowed on the other side of the fence, of course. One hit and you're out. Lay down and stay down until the action moves somewhere else and then return to camp. Oh, and of course; place any bets you might want to before we start."

"What happens when team A has been annihilated?" one of the players asked.

The ex-military glanced as Slade and smirked. "Well, then it's each man or woman on their own, I'd say. We'll let you know by radio in that case."

"Pft, that won't take long. My bet is that we get them within half an hour," the same guy snorted.

"My money is on the smart bet. Us," Slade grinned.

The others chucked as did Robin. It was a relaxed, friendly group just joining up for some fun in the woods and the teen didn't feel threatened by the challenge, he looked forward to it.

"Let's go, then," Slade said and put on his mask.

Robin did the same and then looked up at the man, jumping a little.

"What?" Slade asked.

"I… you just look scary with that thing on," Robin admitted, feeling foolish. Bells again. Louder this time. Why?

The man just chuckled and the bells died down.

One thing about these people, Robin realized, was that they weren't that great at looking upwards. He had just put a bullet in another guy while Slade had taken out his friend from the ground. The man gave him a thumbs up and gestured that they should move along. The 'dead' was on the ground.

"Damn you, brat!" Robin's 'victim' whispered as the teen landed softly next to him. "Had no idea you were there, scared the crap out of me. Good luck now!"

Robin grinned back and nodded, following Slade quietly.

Had he been on his own he would most likely have been dead by now, he figured, but Slade knew amazing strategies for these kinds of scenarios. They kept as much to the middle of the vast grounds as they could, as being cornered was a sure way to lose as Slade had put it. Team B had started somewhat organized, but had now been broken up. Robin was tense, expecting movement everywhere, but Slade looked almost relaxed, moving too quietly for this world. They took out another group of four and thus moved on, group by group, individual by individual until Slade stood up after Robin had taken out yet another 'enemy'.

"Hey! There might be more out there!" Robin hissed.

"Nope, that was the last one. I counted," the man said and at that moment their radios crackled.

"That's game over boys and girls, congrats to Team A. Come back here and settle your bets."

There were no pissed off faces around them when they returned, just a lot of good natured swearing and pats on their shoulders as the others shared stories about how they had been taken down. Not even losing bets seemed to make people miserable as the bets had been low. Still, between all of them, Slade had made enough for a nice dinner, which he suggested to the teen.

"You've earned it," the man said with a grin, filling Robin with pride even though he wasn't sure what he had done more than following orders and being a bit creative when it came to hiding places.

* * *

Slade looked around at the men and women surrounding him, bright blue and red splotches on their bodies. He had asked for his and Robin's colors to be different, though the other team all had yellow bullets. The reason was that he wanted to see how the boy's shooting was and the result was slightly surprising but pleasing: all killing shots. Shots to arms and legs, even to gear, counted just as much and would have terminated a player, and Robin had been informed of this before starting, and yet he had, unconsciously perhaps, gone for killing shots in the chest and back. Interesting.

He took the teen home to shower and eat something light. After that they had to go shopping for clothes as he had promised Robin a nice dinner and the young man had absolutely nothing to wear that would be suitable. They got him a good enough suit, shirt, tie and shoes and after a lazy afternoon, which the boy spent tanning in the back yard for some reason, they set off to the restaurant where Slade had managed to get them a table.

The food was sublime, and the man had to hide his amusement when it came to how the boy acted. His cover as a street kid would have been completely blown if Slade hadn't already known the truth. The boy ordered and ate much too confidently, seemingly perfectly at home in the setting, using the right utensils and glasses and having impeccable manners. The boy himself didn't seem to reflect on any of that, but maybe it was a sign of trust that he didn't think about hiding his true self so much anymore.

When walking home they suddenly heard gun shots from a side street. Robin spun around towards the man.

"Can we?"

"Did you come armed like I told you?" Slade asked, again amused. He was teaching the boy never to go anywhere unprepared.

"Of course! You?"

Slade withdrew his ski mask from his jacket pocket with a smirk. Robin grinned at him and set off.

Slade had to actually hustle to catch up to the quick teen and hurriedly pulled the mask over his face as he ran into the shadows. They searched for the origin of the shooting but, as those things sometimes go, didn't find it. The streets seemed to be empty, none of the few people around appeared to be upset or acting strangely. They took to the roofs as well but even Robin had to give up after a while, which he did with a curse.

The teen turned towards Slade looking very annoyed. "Well, that was a waste of-" The man saw how the teen tensed and then paled as he cut himself off. He couldn't understand what had caused the reaction, but the young man's eyes were glued to his face as the man stood towering over him.

"Y-you…" Robin then turned on the spot and ran, no _fled_. Slade lifted his hand to his face and cursed. In his hurry to put the ski mask on he hadn't noticed that it was still covering his right eye. Somehow that must have made the boy put two and two together. He swore and set off after the teen. He needed to deal with him before he managed to do any damage.

* * *

Robin ran. How could he have been so blind? The man's build, his skill, his voice, his demeanor… they all fit into the Deathstroke mold. The one eye staring down at him had been the last thing to click, the last bell to ring. And he had run. He now wished that he had pretended like nothing was wrong and just slipped away later, with his gear, with maybe some food too.

Plans were flitting through his head but none of them seemed good enough right now. He had to leave Gotham. Maybe go to Metropolis or New York. He needed to get his small stash of money and burn most of it on buss tickets. Tonight. Now. He had to get away.

He didn't have his jump cord, just his mask, a couple of throwing knives and a gun. He could sell the gun, he decided, that would get him some spending money. He knew he had to get away. He knew too much and someone like Deathstroke wouldn't like lose ends.

His lungs started burning and he caught his breath, hidden in the shadows of two chimneys. He almost immediately heard footsteps catching up to him and set off again. He had to make the next jump. It was a big one, but he could do it. He had before. Many times. But not in dress shoes. He realized the last minute that he wouldn't get enough of a grip and tried to stop. Instead he slipped and was sliding towards the edge of the roof. He flailed, tried to grasp on to something, anything, but suddenly there was nothing beneath his feet. He felt the moment of weightlessness connected with falling just a split second before his arm was caught and he was flung up and back the way he had come. He landed badly, rolled and then got on his feet.

"Robin, put that down."

The teen blinked at Slade's order and then noticed the gun in his hand. He almost dropped it but then his grip tightened instead. This was his way out. His only way. He'd threaten the man first, but if that didn't work… Deathstroke was a killer. A heartless murderer. No better than that kidnapper. Even as he thought the thoughts they grated together in his mind, making an awful noise of sorts as he tried to make them fit.

"Back down, Deathstroke, or I'll shoot."

"Nothing has changed." The man's voice was calm, reasonable.

"Everything's changed!" the teen snarled. "You trained me to be like you!"

"I never pretended otherwise. I told you what I was, Robin. I even showed you."

"No!" Robin wouldn't listen, he decided. The man's words were poison. He was Deathstroke, an assassin, an enemy. Yes, he had known Slade wasn't on the right side of the law, but… but… but this was different! This was the man who had tried to kill hi- Suddenly Robin realized that the man must have recognized him, both times they met. "Why didn't you kill me?" he asked.

"Because you were good, Grayson."

The name might as well have been a blow to his guts. Robin gasped. "You… you knew? For… for how long?"

"Since I took you in. I followed you to 'work' one night."

"And… and you just played along?" The teen's cheeks colored. He felt humiliated, betrayed… toyed with.

"I wanted you to have what you wanted," the man shrugged. "Put the gun down. Let's go home."

Robin burst out in a short laugh. "You wouldn't want any witnesses, Deathstroke. I know too much about you."

"Which would be a problem if you were looking to sell that information or go to the authorities, but you won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Wishful thinking maybe… because I really don't want to kill you, kid."

"Sure," Robin snorted and backed away. "I won't say anything, okay, just let me go?" The last part came out more pleading than he had meant to.

The man shook his head. "Not like this. Not without more reassurance. The trial month is up in a few days, stay with me until then. We'll train as usual. No missions."

"I'm not an idiot."

"No, but sometimes you mimic one very well," Slade sighed. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Robin."

"Let's try it the hard way then," the teen, who trusted the man just about as far as he could throw him, snorted.

"Very well." He seemed to suddenly explode and before Robin even had time to pull the trigger the gun was painfully knocked out of his hand and his neck was grabbed. "Sorry about this," the man told him and just as Robin became aware that he was going to die the world went black.

* * *

Slade looked down on the unconscious form on the bed. He hoped this would work out. The boy was right; he didn't want witnesses, at least not hostile ones. If the kid was going to leave him Slade would have to feel one hundred percent sure that there wouldn't be any nasty surprises coming his way in the future. The man sighed. He had trust issues.

* * *

Robin woke up back in his small room. He was surprised about that. Waking up, that was. If the man really wanted to kill him he would have done so on the roof, surely? The handcuffs attaching his wrists to the bed frame was less of a surprise. His jacket and shoes had been taken off and when he moved he couldn't feel the shapes of the throwing knives he had strapped on. Slade wouldn't let him keep those, of course.

His head hurt. The man must have knocked him out. He blearily craned his neck back to study the cuffs, but there was nothing he could do about them right now. He had nothing to try to pick the locks with, and he knew the bed was sturdy as he had helped carry it in here himself. He closed his eyes, it helped the headache even though the room was dark, and dozed instead, until there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" he answered flatly, and it opened, light flowing in from the hallway.

"Awake, I see," Slade stated, a glass of what looked like water in his hand. "How are you feeling?" he added and turned on the light in the room.

"Not dead. But a headache." Robin squinted, the pain reacting badly to the light.

"I suspected as much, I brought you some pain pills," the man said and showed them to him. The teen narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but the man only snorted. "If I wanted you dead you would have been dead," he said, echoing Robin's own thoughts. "Just headache pills. I'm not going to force you to take them."

Robin tried to shuffle into a sitting position but needed Slade's help.

"I'll take them," the boy said, and opened his mouth as the man gave them to him and then offered him water to drink, holding the glass for him. "Thanks," the teen added, having some manners.

"You're welcome. Are you ready to talk yet?"

"I guess. I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Not really," the man admitted, with a little smirk.

"Care to uncuff me?"

"I rather like the sight…" the man's voice was deeper now, the smirk wider.

"Slade!" Robin felt himself blushing.

"Very well. I'm glad I'm 'Slade' again, and not 'Deathstroke'."

"But you are, though…" Robin muttered as the man undid one cuff. "Wait, what about the other one?" he added as Slade sat back.

"I don't want to go chasing you across the city again if I can help it, and I intend to sleep for another hour or two. It's three in the morning."

Robin huffed but there wasn't much he could say to that.

There was a moment of silence. "Who am I to you now, Robin?" Slade's voice was serious. Not cold, but not exactly warm either. He sounded… guarded.

"Deathstroke," Robin snapped, then just slightly regretted it. "Slade. I don't know! You lied to me!"

"No more than you did to me. Less, one might argue."

"I should have known. There was something wrong with your eye, I just… couldn't pin point it."

"It moves quite well, but the pupil, of course, doesn't dilate," Slade said.

"That's it," the teen felt silly that he hadn't seen that. What a bad detective he was…

"Don't beat yourself up," the man said kindly. "That's my job."

Robin let out a little chuckle, despite himself. "You're good at it," he said.

"Well, thank you. And about my job, does it really matter that much that you didn't know my alias? You knew pretty much what I do."

"Not the scale of it."

"I'm sorry for being more successful than you thought. In the mean while I put a lot of time into 'training' a professional who pretended to have no idea what he was doing."

Robin pondered that for a moment. "You knew, though."

"Yes, so I had to pretend and think of ways to get you what you needed. That museum trip?"

"Not like I enjoyed that either," Robin muttered, feeling like he unfairly enough was getting scolded here. He sighed. "I… I don't know about any of this, Slade… I won't go to the police and certainly not to some damn criminal, present company excluded, but… I don't know."

"Sleep on it. Do you need the bathroom? Water?"

"No, not right now. I'm tired, though," the teen admitted.

"You look it. I'll leave our doors open, just call if you need anything. I'm not going to uncuff you, though, I hope you understand?"

"Yeah, I do." Robin shuffled down again and smiled a little as Slade more or less tucked him in. "On a scale between Ivar and Batman, where would you rank?" he suddenly asked the man who was about to leave.

Slade paused in the doorway. "I'm not a good man, Robin. I don't think of myself as a bad man either, though. I don't enjoy killing, per se, but I'm good at it and I charge for it. Charge for saving people too. I don't know where that will 'rank' me… I think you'll get different answers from different people."

"But where would you put yourself?"

"Hell of a lot closer to Batman than Ivar."

Robin thought for a moment and then nodded. "Agreed."

"Well good. Anything else?"

"No."

"Sleep well, then."

"You too."

Robin was tired, but it took a while to fall asleep. His mind was rushing trying to find a solution, trying to make sense of it all and decide where he stood. It wasn't easy. There was Slade, his master, who he knew pretty well by now. A tough man, with humor, who had taken him in, trained him into a better fighter, made love to him… and also made him do and see things he rather wouldn't have. And then there was Deathstroke who… who what? Robin didn't know squat about the man, really, apart from that he had fought Batman and was a 'bad guy'. An assassin. A mercenary. But which part was more important? The man or his job? Robin knew he couldn't separate them, of course he couldn't, but… He groaned quietly to himself. Why was this so difficult? The man was a criminal and he should have nothing to do with criminals! But he had known what he was from the start. Robin himself hadn't exactly been innocent of crime even before he met Slade. And he had agreed to join him as his apprentice for a month knowing this… so that hadn't changed. And Robin genuinely _liked_ Slade. He really did. It was difficult to admit, but it was true. But did liking someone mean you should give up your future plans?

Robin fell asleep wrapped up in those conflicting thoughts.

* * *

Slade didn't go straight to sleep, he checked a few orders he had made and, as they were done he arranged to have them delivered early the next morning. He also contacted some financial sources of his, making further arrangements. When he was done he passed by Robin's bedroom door and glanced inside. The boy was asleep but twisting and turning. He could imagine some of what he was going through. Slade's worries had been calmed, though. Robin was easy to read and he was sure the boy had been honest about not betraying him. What he would do now was still hanging in the air, though. It was up to the boy now.

* * *

Robin awoke to a wonderful smell and sat up, yawning.

"Slade?" he called out as no one was in the room.

"One moment!" The man sounded like he was in the kitchen, which would match the smell. Seemed like Slade had decided on a fatty breakfast today.

When the man came into the room Robin blinked at the black eye patch he was wearing.

"So, you're actually a pirate?" the teen asked pluckily.

"Aye, matey," the man replied without missing a beat, making Robin laugh. "Truth is the glass eye chafes like crazy," the man continued.

"So if you've been cranky, that's why?" Robin grinned.

"Maybe you should mind your manners. You're still in cuffs," Slade pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry," Robin smirked.

"No running and I'll take them off."

"Only to the bathroom," the young man answered honestly.

"That I can allow. Come to the kitchen when you're done."

Robin admitted that he _did_ look at the bathroom window for a bit while in there. Running, though, would be stupid on so many levels. If anything he needed the man's trust not the other way around.

The kitchen smelled divine and he could feel his mouth watering when he entered.

"I clearly have to learn how to cook better," he admitted, looking at the spread. Bacon, fried eggs, sausages, pancakes, jam, juice… it was one big fatty and sugary pile of food.

"I thought we could indulge," Slade shrugged as he placed a plate of toast on the table. "Sit."

Robin did. They ate in amiable silence, but as their stomachs filled up it was time for business.

"I've changed my mind and we're ending your trial period today," Slade told him. "As we agreed that means you can join me or leave. What do you want to do?"

Robin hesitated, tried to think things through one more time. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'm… very confused about a lot of things… and because of that… I can't join you. I can't make a promise to you when I don't understand my own feelings yet."

"I trust you won't betray me if I let you go?" the man wanted to make sure.

"I won't."

"If you do…"

"Yes, yes, I'll get to walk the plank." When the man looked confused, Robin pointed to his own right eye. "Because of the eye patch," he cleared up.

Slade snorted. "Something like that," he admitted. "Well, you know the conditions of you leaving."

"Yeah… I only get to bring what I came here with," Robin sighed. "Can I take a shower first, though, please? And I'm not sure where my old clothes are…?"

"Take the shower, I'll help you with the rest," the man told him.

When Robin returned to the kitchen about twenty minutes later, after really have taken his time as he didn't know when he'd get the opportunity to feel clean again, he was surprised to see a big gym bag and a backpack waiting for him. "What's all this?" he asked. He was just wearing a towel and had expected to see just his old clothes.

"I'm not going to send my former apprentice out there with nothing again. Can't have you begging on the streets, that would ruin my reputation," the man smirked and gave him an envelope. "ID papers saying your name is Robin Wilson and you're eighteen. Address to a small apartment, prepaid for three months. That should give you time to find something of your own as I suspect you'd want that. Debit card. I put your cut of our latest mission in there. After all, you did the actual work. If you live frugally it might last you a year. Contact information to a guy that can give you some missions if you'd like to work for money. He's been warned you just want good-guy stuff, but there's a lot of that. Protection, missing people, kidnappings… and your gear is in the bag. You can also take the phone I gave you in case you have any questions."

"I…. I… wow." Robin just took it all in. "I… Wilson, that's your last name, right?"

"I'm possessive. Still consider you mine," the man smirked.

Robin was caught between laughing and choking up and, in the spirit of that mood, opted to hug the man. Hard.

"Sorry," he mumbled into the man's chest. "I just have to."

"Quite alright."

"Your hand is under my towel," the boy pointed out a moment later.

"I know," the man deadpanned and patted his behind amiably. "Just a little something to remember on cold, lonely winter nights."

Robin laughed and shook his head as he pulled away. "I'm going to get dressed," he announced and grabbed a pile of clothes that the man hadn't packed, probably intended for him to wear.

"Pity," the man sighed but then smirked. "There's a gun with your gear. Wear it. Just in case," he said seriously.

"Ok, I will," the teen said.

"And keep up the training."

"Yes, sir. Um… are you… are you leaving?"

Slade nodded. "Just accepted a contract in Chicago."

"Do you come by Gotham often?"

"Only if work brings me here. But Robin, if we should meet again… don't get in my way, no matter what, understood?"

The teen nodded.

* * *

Slade watched the young man go with a little bit of regret. There was nothing he could have done, though, and at least now the stray wouldn't be sleeping in the streets. He'd keep an eye on him too. There was no reason for the boy to know that, apart from the phone being traceable, Slade had long since also planted GPS transmitters in the handles of his jump cords and in his belt as well. No reason at all.

* * *

Five months later and Robin had settled into a new rent-by-the-month place. It was just a tiny room with a kitchenette and the only furniture he had was a bed, but it was a kingdom compared to where he had been six months ago. He took on assignments from Slade's contact regularly to make a living, even danced at Big Johns place now and then, but beside that he didn't have much going on. He had planned on going to college, but felt lost about what he wanted to study. He sometimes felt like he was stuck in some kind of limbo.

He had been back at the house a few weeks after he had left, but it had been bordered up and empty. He'd felt so lonely then. Left behind. Lost. He had held the phone in his hand for a long time that night, but didn't send as much as a text. It was for emergencies, he assumed, not for anything else. It had also never rung.

Right now he was out patrolling, no real goal in mind, just enjoying a run over the roofs. He leaped over to the next roof, rounded a stairwell building and skidded to a halt. Slade was standing just on the other side of the building, two men on their knees in front of him.

"Robin," the man nodded, but his tone had a warning note in it, and the gun he was holding had swung to include the young man in its range.

The teen raised his hands in a calming manner. "Had no idea you were here, gonna go this way now," he hurriedly said, pointing in the other direction. "Please, um… go ahead. Preferably when I've left though," he added, and took off. He expected to hear gun shots to ring out but they never did.

The next night Robin repeated the feat of running into Slade as the man suddenly appeared in front of him.

"I _swear_ I'm not stalking you!" the teen said, already backing away.

"No, that's my job," the man said and lifted his mask so the teen could see the smirk underneath. "Relax, I came to see you."

"Oh! Good!" the teen smiled. "Back in town for a bit, then?"

"Only a day or two. Had some intimidation business to see to."

"Like those two guys on the roof last night?" the teen asked. "How intimidated are they? Permanently?"

The man chuckled. "Not your business, but no. They walked. But they know they won't do it next time. I've heard you're taking assignments from Jonas?"

"Yeah, it pays well and I get to help people," Robin shrugged.

"You killed a man," Slade said.

Robin froze. "You've kept a close tab, haven't you?" he muttered.

"Of course," the man shrugged like it was natural.

"It was a hostage situation, he was about to execute two of the hostages. Didn't have a choice," Robin explained.

"Those things happen," the man nodded.

"Soo… how's your work?" Robin asked after a moment of silence.

"Stressful," the man leered.

"Heh, maybe there's something we can do about that sometime?" Robin offered with a little bit of a leer back.

"I'd appreciate it," the mercenary chuckled. "Do you have any plans coming up? School? Contracts?"

"Nah, not yet. Trying to decide what I want to do," Robin shrugged.

"I'm heading to Italy as soon as I finish here, maybe by tomorrow. The daughter of a mafia boss has been abducted and they are afraid she'll be forced to marry the son of a rival family. Although she might have gone willingly. Mafia business is always messy."

"Oh." Italy. That was very far away. Robin had an inner picture of light, sun, scents of food and flowers.

"Could use an extra pairs of eyes and hands over there…" Slade told him. "Want to come?"

"I… I don't have a passport?" Robin said, taken aback.

"I happen to have one in your name."

"You happen to, huh?" the teen smirked and then took a big breath. "Yes. Yes I'd like to come."

"You will. And to Italy too," Slade grinned. "Your place or mine?"

It seemed the stray had an owner again.

 _The End_

A/N: that was that. Always nice when strays are adopted. If you're not looking for a specific breed; go to a shelter! ;) And if you ARE looking for a specific breed, make sure the breeder is a reputable one. CU!


End file.
